Rafe Sinclair's Revenge

by Gayle Wilson

  “No matter how often you’ve done it,” Hawk said softly, “there is always something personally damaging about ending another man’s life. Even if it’s necessary. Or just.”

  Lucas Hawkins was, she knew, more than qualified to make that assessment.

  “If he knows this, if he only suspects it, then why would Griff even think about letting Rafe go after Jorgensen’s brother alone? Why would he possibly agree to that?”

  You don’t use those you love as bait. They had all told her that. Except, apparently, when the bait was Rafe.

  “That’s the only way Rafe would let us play it. Believe me, we’ve both tried to talk him out of doing this.”

  That made no sense, either. That Rafe would want to go alone. Not if Hawk were right.

  There had always been backup. That’s the way they operated.

  “Rafe isn’t stupid,” she said. “So why would he insist on doing this by himself?”

  Despite what he’d tried to convince her of over dinner that night, Rafe would feel as great an obligation to take Adler Jorgensen out as any of them would. Maybe as great an obligation as he had felt about hunting down Adler’s older brother. And in this case, the odds of succeeding would not be increased by working alone.

  “For the same reason he wouldn’t have anything to do with the Phoenix,” Hawk said.

  She shook her head, feeling as if she were too slow in figuring all this out. Of course she had never once considered that Rafe might be having psychological problems. He was the bravest man she’d ever known. As a member of the team, she had known a lot.

  Rafe had always been the one least likely to be affected by fear or fatigue. The one who was up for whatever challenge was thrown at them, no matter how unexpected. The one in complete control of both the situation and himself.

  And now he isn’t.

  From what little she’d read about flashbacks, she knew they occurred without warning, sending the sufferer mentally, and perhaps more importantly emotionally, into another time and place. And her understanding was that there was nothing that could be done to prevent them. No way to control when they might strike.

  “He’s afraid he’ll leave someone else vulnerable,” she said, voicing her sudden realization.

  No partners. No Phoenix. No missions. No chance that Rafe’s condition might get someone else killed.

  “The primary trigger is always stress,” Hawk said, “especially something reminiscent of the original trauma. But it doesn’t have to be that. Any feeling of danger or vulnerability is likely to have the same effect.”

  Like the ambush in the woods outside the summerhouse. She had wondered about Rafe’s delay in providing them with covering fire. In spite of being hit, she had gotten off a couple shots before he’d responded.

  Because he had been thrown back to the scene of the embassy bombing? Or reliving any of a dozen other incidents in which he’d been pinned down by hostile fire?

  “Then…he’s the one who’s vulnerable,” she said. “What if he has a flashback at the moment Jorgensen comes after him? You and Griff can’t let him face that madman alone. Not knowing this.”

  “I don’t know it, but it seems to make sense of everything that’s happened. Besides, we gave him our word.”

  “I didn’t give him mine.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She wasn’t going to stand aside and let Rafe deal with this by himself, but she should never have telegraphed that intent to Hawk. He and Griff had promised to keep her out of it. That had been part of the deal.

  “Don’t take away what he has left, Elizabeth,” Hawk said.

  “What the hell does that mean?” she demanded, furious that the best he could come up with as a reason for letting Rafe face Adler Jorgensen alone was that cryptic bullshit.

  “He wants to do this. Maybe he needs to do it. On his terms. He knows the odds are against him, but he isn’t willing to put anyone else’s life at risk. He’ll get Jorgensen. Or he won’t,” Hawk added. “Either way, this is what he wants.”

  “To die?” she asked, her voice rising. “You think he wants to die?”

  Hawk didn’t answer, and his refusal made her almost as angry as his suggestion.

  “You don’t know him, Hawk. Not like I do. If you think Rafe is on some kind of suicide mission—”

  Which was exactly what she had accused him of this morning. Kamikaze. The realization that Hawk was right cut her off in midsentence.

  Rafe had ordered John to take her to safety, leaving him alone in the woods with Jorgensen. If Edmonds had obeyed, if he hadn’t blackmailed Rafe into coming by refusing to leave without him, Rafe would have had both of them out of the way.

  And then it would have been only Rafe and the terrorist. Just as it was now.

  “Elizabeth?” Hawk’s tone was concerned.

  Maybe she could use that to her advantage, she thought, swaying slightly as if she were faint.

  Use whatever they give you, Rafe had taught her. If she were going to try to outsmart Griff Cabot and Hawk, she would need every advantage and more. To carry that trick off, she would need every bit of intelligence, skill and daring she had ever possessed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Feeling better?” Hawk asked.

  She nodded, elbows on the kitchen table, and her forehead resting against the heels of her hands. The bourbon he’d poured for her sat untouched nearby.

  Without looking up, she said, “Just light-headed. I should have eaten something.”

  “We can fix that,” he offered.

  She shook her head. “I’ll get something in a minute. You don’t have to wait on me, Hawk. It’s embarrassing enough to practically pass out in your arms. I’m not the fainting kind.”

  She glanced up as she said the last. She couldn’t discern any skepticism in his features. Softened by concern, they didn’t appear nearly as forbidding as they usually did. She felt a momentary guilt, which she ruthlessly suppressed.

  Rafe’s life was at stake. She would do anything she had to not to let him face Jorgensen alone. Anything, including lying to someone who trusted her.

  “It’s been a long day,” Hawk said.

  It had been. From the attack at dawn through the afternoon’s bitter confrontation with Rafe to her missed opportunity to say goodbye. To cap it off, she had finally been given the key to understanding Rafe’s rejection, without having an opportunity to act upon it.

  To do that now, she had to make sure he survived an encounter with a terrorist bent on revenge. Assuming, of course, that she could escape Hawk’s supervision. And that was a huge assumption.

  “Can you at least tell me where he’s going?” she asked.

  For a split second the unexpected softness she had noticed before was back in his eyes. As quickly as it had appeared, Hawk cleared it, shaking his head.

  “The less you know, the better.”

  “Better for who?” she asked. The resentment in her tone was too revealing, but then Hawk knew how she felt about Rafe.

  “Better for all of us,” he said simply.

  She couldn’t probe any more without making him wary. An alerted Hawk was an adversary she didn’t need.

  “Will you at least promise to tell me when it’s over?”

  He held her eyes for a long time before he nodded. The deal he had made with Rafe couldn’t matter then. No matter how the mission turned out.

  “Is this a private party?”

  They turned to find John Edmonds standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She had no idea how long he had been there or how much he knew about what was going on. Maybe as little as she did. Or maybe…

  “Not really,” she said. “I took too long a nap, I guess. When I tried to come downstairs, I got a little ragged around the edges. Hawk came to my rescue.”

  “Rough day,” John said, advancing into the room. “You’re entitled to feel ragged. How’s the arm?”

  She hadn’t realized that she was sitting with her
hand held over the injury until he asked about it. “It’s okay,” she said. “A little sore.”

  “Want me to take a look at it?”

  “Rafe—” For some reason her throat closed, preventing the completion of that sentence. If she didn’t get a grip, she told herself, she was going to fail before she’d gotten started. “He changed the dressing earlier.”

  “That was before the planning session. Maybe we should—”

  “It’s okay,” she said again, looking down at her hands. Apparently she was the only one who had been left in the dark about what they had in mind.

  “Griff wants to see you.”

  Surprised, she looked up, only to realize the comment had been directed at Hawk. And then there was a spurt of adrenaline as she realized the implications for her plan. Edmonds might be an unknown quantity, but she had rather take her chances against him than Hawk.

  “Now?” Hawk asked, sounding equally surprised.

  “That’s what he said. It’s okay,” Edmonds assured him. “I know what I’m supposed to do.”

  Which probably meant Griff had prepped John about their agreement. The excitement she’d felt at being left alone with him faded.

  Hawk nodded, his gaze touching on her face. He pushed away from the counter he’d been leaning against and walked across the room. He stopped in the doorway, turning back to face her.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I would never want to bet against Rafe Sinclair’s chances of success.”

  That would certainly have been true once. With the information she’d been given tonight, however, she wasn’t as ready to accept that positive assessment.

  Don’t take away what he has left, Hawk had advised. What if that were no longer enough?

  “Thanks,” she said aloud.

  After Hawk had disappeared into the hall, John came over to the table and pulled out the chair opposite hers. His eyes examined her face.

  “You know,” he said.

  “About the PTSD? Hawk told me. I can’t believe I hadn’t figured it out.”

  Even as she made conversation, her mind was racing, trying to think what she could do to get out of the house and be on her way to Rafe.

  “He obviously did everything in his power to make sure you wouldn’t.”

  “It just seems so foreign to who he is. I know something like that can happen to anyone, especially any one of us,” she added, “but…” Not Rafe, she thought as she mouthed the empty words. Anyone but Rafe.

  “You’re finding it hard to accept.”

  “Hard to believe,” she corrected.

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s the strongest, bravest man I know.”

  “Which doesn’t mean he’s invincible,” John said, his mouth relaxing into a smile.

  “Then why are they letting him go after Jorgensen alone?”

  There was a beat of silence before he answered. “Because it’s what he wants.”

  “That doesn’t make it right. Or smart. We’ve never operated that way. Why start now?”

  “You’ll have to ask Griff.”

  “I think it’s because Rafe’s expendable,” she said, imbuing her tone with a bitterness she didn’t have to fake.

  “Expendable?”

  She didn’t blame him for that skepticism. It was an incredibly lame argument. It was all she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

  “To the agency. The Phoenix. They get what they want, and none of their own people are put at risk.”

  “You don’t really believe that’s what Griff’s doing.”

  She didn’t, but maybe she could convince him it was possible, at least on the part of the agency. Edmonds had no loyalty to the CIA. He didn’t even know Steiner. Of course, those who did know him—like Rafe and Hawk—were probably even less likely to trust him, she admitted.

  Still, John was the only one here who hadn’t given Rafe his promise. He was, literally, her last shot at making this work.

  “I think the agency is using Griff, just like it’s using Rafe. Carl Steiner is infamous for doing exactly that.”

  “Expediency above loyalty,” he said.

  Maybe he does know Steiner.

  “Or in lieu of it,” she said. “Only in this case, it isn’t even expedient. Not if they really want Jorgensen dead.”

  “Whatever happened to Sinclair doesn’t negate his skill or experience.”

  “It might. You had to be aware that it took him too long this morning to respond to that shot.”

  As she said it, she watched his eyes. And she could see the truth in them. He had wondered at Rafe’s delay in reacting to the attack. That was probably why he had set off through the brush to find him.

  “What if that happens when he’s facing Jorgensen?” she demanded. “What then?”

  At least he was honest enough not to deny the possibility. The silence expanded, but she didn’t attempt to press her point. One way or the other she was going to leave this house. She would go through him, if there was no other way.

  “There’s nothing I can do,” he said quietly.

  “You can turn your back for thirty seconds.”

  “Even if I wanted to help, you’re in no condition to—”

  “I’m in no condition? I’ve got a scratch on my arm, while Rafe…” She shook her head, fighting an overwhelming despair at the hypocrisy. She took a breath, determined to control her anger. “Rafe is out there alone with a man who wants more than anything else in the world to kill him. And at any time—at the most critical time—he may be thrown back into some situation that happened years ago. And you’re telling me you’re worried about this?”

  She touched the bandage Rafe had put over the graze. As she did, it was almost as if she were having a flashback. She was certainly back in that moment. Looking up into Rafe’s eyes. Remembering.

  “Don’t do this,” she begged softly. “Don’t let Steiner win again.”

  She could tell that the phrase puzzled him. For someone who had not been part of the team then it was hard to explain. They had all been expendable. The difference was that they had been more than willing to give their lives to protect this country. And maybe, if the government hadn’t tied their hands, they could have.

  “All you have to do is look the other way,” she said.

  His eyes held on her face a long time. Then, without saying a word he stood, pushing his chair away from the table.

  Her heart in her throat, she watched him. There was no way to tell anything about what he intended from his expression.

  “He doesn’t want you there.”

  The words were not encouraging, but perversely there had been something in his tone that gave her hope.

  “I know, but…I also know that he wouldn’t leave me to face Jorgensen alone. And I know that, despite what he’d told you to do this morning, you went back for him. That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Not like this. Not this…sacrifice.”

  John had called it expediency, but that was just another word for sacrifice. If there was anything she could do to prevent it, she wasn’t going to let that happen. Not to Rafe.

  She hadn’t been aware that she was no longer watching his face. Not until he laid something on the table in front of her.

  Her eyes stung with tears as she realized what it was. Shocked that she had succeeded, she looked up in time to watch him remove the Beretta from its holster at the small of his back and lay it down beside his keys.

  “If you let anything happen to you—” he began.

  “I won’t,” she promised, fighting tears of relief. Her voice sounded betrayingly thick with them. “I swear I won’t, John.”

  “You better go on,” he said, his own voice husky. “They’d almost exhausted their sources when Griff sent me to get Hawk.”

  “What will you tell them?” she asked, standing and picking up the incredible gifts he’d given her.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t had time to think about it. Maybe the truth.”


  If he did, it would probably mean the end to his association with the Phoenix. This was the kind of betrayal Griff would find hard to forgive.

  She should be sorry for that, she supposed, but she wasn’t. Right now all she felt was elation. And gratitude.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He nodded, that crooked smile moving only one corner of his mouth. She was halfway across the room before she remembered the vital piece of information she didn’t have.

  “Do you know where he’s going?”

  It had seemed from what Griff said this afternoon that they still weren’t sure exactly how Jorgensen was getting his information. Or even what he knew. Obviously the location of her place and the summerhouse, since there had already been confrontations with him at both locations. It seemed reasonable that Rafe would have chosen one of those to start his search, but it would save time if she knew which.

  “I know I’d choose the place where I’d have the most advantages,” John said.

  Familiarity with the terrain. Weaponry. Perhaps even somewhere without stress or unpleasant associations. And in this case…

  “I’d go home,” Edmonds finished, “and wait for him to come to me.”

  “I owe you,” she said.

  “Then you make damn sure you’re still around when I decide to collect.”

  THE PLAN they’d devised had called for him to drive Griff’s car to Dulles and leave it in short-term parking. From there he would fly to Jackson and rent a car to drive to Elizabeth’s. Shortly after he left Cabot’s Maryland estate, Rafe had decided against doing any of that.

  After all, they didn’t know how Jorgensen was getting his information. Not that he suspected Hawk or Cabot or even Edmonds of being the source, but he figured that if no one knew where he was, there was no way in hell Jorgensen could continue to be one step ahead of him.

  His own car was sitting in the garage of the summerhouse. He could leave Griff’s in its place and drive through the night, arriving sometime tomorrow in Magnolia Grove.

  That wasn’t the arena he would have chosen for this confrontation, but Elizabeth’s house was the one place they had all agreed Jorgensen would continue to monitor. Especially since he seemed to have lost track of them after they’d left Virginia.