“I’m in,” she announced softly. “She’s alone, but I haven’t checked the house.” It was usually the first thing she did to insure her safety, but Nicolas had been adamant that she only deal with the secretary. She moved through the room first, searching it carefully, going through the drawers and the closet. She noted each item of interest. “She’s definitely seeing someone.”
Next to the phone was a framed photograph of Louise Charter and a young man of undetermined age, perhaps thirty or forty. He had his arm around her and was smiling down at her upturned face.
Dahlia sat at the end of the bed. “Louise.” She said the name softly, gently. Put persuasion in her voice.
Louise opened her eyes and gasped, half-sat, and pushed at the fall of tumbling blond hair threaded with gray. “Dahlia. I recognize your voice. What are you doing here? Are you in trouble?” She sat up all the way and reached for her robe in a no-nonsense fashion. “I can call the director and have help here immediately for you. He’s been out of the office and unavailable, but I can reach him in an emergency.”
Dahlia smiled at her, amazed that Louise would be so complacent to find her sitting on the bed. She was certain Louise was sixty, although she certainly looked younger. “Thank you, I’m fine. I just need information, and I didn’t want to use the phone. I was afraid it might be dangerous.”
Louise nodded her understanding. “I think the director has been afraid of that as well. He’s very secretive at the moment, even with me, and I’ve been his private secretary for twenty years.”
“So you don’t know where he is?”
Louise shook her head. “Not at the moment, but he’s always in touch. Have you spoken with him since all this happened?”
“Briefly,” Dahlia lied. “He’s gone to see Jesse.”
At once Louise looked distressed. “How would you know where the director is?” The thought was clearly upsetting.
“He told me when I asked him about Jesse.”
Louise nodded, still frowning. “Please don’t repeat that to anyone, Dahlia. You shouldn’t have even told me.” She sighed. “Poor Jesse. I’m told he’ll never walk again.”
Something inside Dahlia went very still. Her heart began to pound. She felt the swarm of energy. Louise’s distress, her own rising anger. With an effort, Dahlia pushed down her temper. “Who told you he would never walk again?”
Louise frowned. “I’m sorry, Dahlia. I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have thought before I spoke. Jesse’s condition is very serious. His legs are damaged beyond repair. It’s no secret. I thought you knew.”
“Have you seen him?” Dahlia’s fingernails bit deeply into her palm. She wanted to reach out and shake the woman. The energy poured into her so that her stomach churned and pressure built in her chest. Electricity crackled in the air.
Louise looked around her, frowning at the static electricity in the air.
“Have you seen Jesse? I’m so worried about him.” Dahlia thrust her hand into her pocket and found the amethyst spheres, palming them for added control. Wisps of Louise’s hair were standing at attention, drawn by the static building in the air. Dahlia feared if she didn’t control it, lightning would arc.
“No, dear,” Louise sighed. “I wish I could have. Martin told me about him. Martin Howard.” She gestured toward the picture. “We’re good friends, and he knew I was worried, so when he found out, he told me.”
“How would he have found out?” Dahlia frowned and clenched her fingers tighter around the spheres. “I even asked the director, and he didn’t give out any information.”
“Dahlia, why would anyone keep Jesse’s condition a secret from all of us? There’s a lot of classified information, but an injured friend isn’t one of them.” Louise spoke very gently, reminiscent of her calm, pleasing voice on the phone.
Dahlia bit down hard on her impatience. “It does seem rather ridiculous, unless someone is out to kill him.”
Louise opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. She studied Dahlia’s face for a long time. “Out to kill him? Deliberately? Dahlia, you’d better tell me what’s going on.”
“Someone destroyed my home and killed my family, Louise. And they tried to kill Jesse. It was a setup from the very first. I walked into trouble. They didn’t follow me home, they were there ahead of me. I don’t exist to anyone except the NCIS. And even there, only a few people know about me.”
Louise shook her. “That can’t be. Only a handful of people know about you, Dahlia, even at the office.”
“So my guess is, the director is protecting Jesse even from the other agents until we find out who is behind this.”
Louise’s faded blue eyes met Dahlia’s squarely. “That’s why you’re here. You think maybe I had something to do with it.” There was great dignity in her voice and a wealth of pride. “I’ve served as Frank Henderson’s secretary for over twenty years, and long before that I served in positions of trust. I’ve never divulged a secret in my life. And you can’t count Jesse’s condition, as nothing has crossed my desk calling it classified information.”
“I’m just trying to keep from getting killed, Louise,” Dahlia said. It was hard not to believe the woman. The energy coming from her was not that of pretense or subterfuge.
“Does Frank think I’ve betrayed him?” When she asked the question her voice wavered and cracked, but her expression was one of pride and dignity. “Do you?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think, Louise. I was hoping you might have a few ideas. The person has to be NCIS. There’s no one else.”
Louise was quiet for a few minutes, obviously giving it some thought. “I can’t imagine anyone in our office being a traitor, Dahlia. The agents are close, but they’re very professional. Most have served in the military, all of them are intelligent and dedicated.” She rubbed her forehead, looking dismayed.
“Maybe someone slipped up and told a girlfriend or wife.”
Louise shook her head. “They wouldn’t do that, Dahlia. Their lives are at risk. They know that.” Her head went up. “You mean me. You have the mistaken idea that I’m an old lady with a young boyfriend. You believe I would trade information for a chance to have him in my bed? Martin Howard is totally dedicated to his job. He’s a decorated officer and a wonderful man, and he certainly isn’t my lover. He would never betray his country, and I certainly wouldn’t do so either.”
“I never said that, Louise.”
“You were thinking it.” She put a hand to her throat. “Is that what everyone is thinking of me?”
Dahlia forced herself to touch the other woman. She laid her hand on Louise’s wrist, wanting to calm her. Needing the gathering energy to give her a respite. The more Louise became upset, the more the heat rose and the pressure in Dahlia’s chest increased. Outside, an owl hooted— once, twice. Dahlia breathed a sigh of relief. “Louise, I don’t think the director would ever believe for one minute you would betray him. He’s protecting Jesse. Are the NCIS offices routinely swept for bugs?”
“You’d have to ask the director.”
It was a standard Louise answer and one Dahlia had heard more than once over the years. “We’ll find whoever is doing this. I know there are all kinds of very sophisticated ways to bug an office or listen to conversations. I’m going now. One last question. Did Martin ever tell you who told him the news about Jesse?”
“No. I didn’t ask. I just presumed that all the agents had been told. In fact, I was a little hurt that the director hadn’t informed me as well.”
“I wouldn’t mention it again, Louise, not to anyone.” Dahlia patted the secretary’s hand and stood up. She was desperate to get out in the open, away from the woman who was feeling a mixture of confused emotions.
“I won’t.”
Dahlia went out of the house the same way she’d entered, swinging through the window onto the roof and running fast to the corner of the house where she somersaulted onto the ground. She hurried to the waiting car. Nicolas pulled
away from the curb the moment she was safely inside and headed for the airfield.
“Did you find anything?” Dahlia asked, breathing slow, drawing the spheres from her pocket so she could begin to dissipate the energy. “I don’t think she has anything to do with it.”
“Dahlia, she’s the only one who knew about Jesse’s legs,” Nicolas pointed out gently. He reached across the seat to wrap his fingers around her thigh, to help draw the energy from her.
“That’s not exactly true,” she said thoughtfully. “Martin Howard told her.”
“If she was telling the truth.”
“I don’t think she was lying,” Dahlia replied stubbornly. “It isn’t her.”
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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Dahlia sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, several rose quartz spheres spinning beneath her fingertips. She ignored the men gathered around her, particularly Max, who was staring in shock as she levitated the balls beneath her palm.
“Look at that. Can any of you do that?” he asked.
Kaden shrugged. “Haven’t tried it yet, but we’re going to,” he admitted.
Dahlia glanced up at his face and burst out laughing. There was something to camaraderie, something she’d been missing all of her life. “I want to watch when you do,” she said.
“Well you can want, but it isn’t happening,” Sam protested. “You’d be laughing at us, and we can’t be having that.”
“Men are such babies.” Dahlia looked over to Nicolas. He’d been on the phone with Lily and Ryland for some time and he had his stone face on. His eyes were flat and cold and she knew he was still upset over the position he’d put the men in, entering the agent’s house without the proper intelligence, not realizing the Norton twins were there.
Max had insisted he be let in on whatever they were doing, and no one objected all that much. He didn’t seem to be much of a prisoner, moving freely about the condo Lily had arranged for them to stay in. He was definitely trying to hear what was said, hovering near Nicolas, and occasionally pacing restlessly.
Nicolas put down the phone and turned to the others. At once all conversation ceased. “Calhoun is in a bad way. It doesn’t look good for his legs. They’ve operated and will a second time, but there’s a lot of damage, especially below the knees.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Louise Charter had correct information. They don’t think he’s going to ever walk again. At least not on his own two legs.”
Max turned away and stared out the window. Dahlia sat very still, absorbing the sudden flare of energy while the men tried to suppress their emotions. She couldn’t suppress her own. She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
Nicolas crossed to her immediately, standing behind her as he put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort and take some of the energy from her. “We knew he was in bad shape, Dahlia. At least he’s alive.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. She’d been hoping for a miracle, and in reality they’d been given one—Jesse was still alive. On some level she’d known when she saw the damage to his legs that it would probably be impossible to fix it, but she had held out hope anyway.
Nicolas crouched down beside her. Lily will see to it that he has the best doctors, the best care. She’ll make certain he’s guarded around the clock. And she’ll try to do even more because she knows he means so much to you. Kiciciyapi mitawa, look at me. I’m speaking the truth. She won’t let him go.
Dahlia blinked back tears that seemed all too close. Was it because she found herself leaning on Nicolas’s strength? She didn’t know. Didn’t care. She looked into his eyes. Into his heart—and saw herself there. She smiled at him. I’m beginning to believe in her. In the GhostWalkers.
Nicolas ruffled her hair and went back to the desk. “We brought some photographs out of Louise Charter’s home early this morning.” He held them up. “Has everyone gone through them?”
“Not me.” Dahlia put out her hand.
Kaden passed her the glossy snapshots. “There are a lot of pictures of Martin Howard.”
“Did Lily have any information on him?” Dahlia asked.
“Martin’s a good friend of mine,” Max interrupted. “He’s a decorated officer in the Green Berets and someone I’ve always been able to count on. He’s a good man, and has served his country since he was eighteen years old.” There was a hard edge to his voice.
Nicolas pinned him with a cold, flat gaze. “No one wants to look at friends, Maxwell. If you can’t do this, we’ll understand.” His voice held no inflection, but Dahlia winced at the clear reprimand. Max bit back a curse and paced across the room to the window.
“Lily found a few interesting things,” Nicolas continued. “Martin Howard isn’t the name he was born with, and Louise Charter isn’t having an affair with him. Apparently, Martin was born into a small-time Mafia family right here in Detroit. His name is actually Stefan Martinelli, and Louise is his mother’s cousin. When his parents were killed in an automobile accident Louise and her husband took in him and his four brothers and helped raise them.”
“Which explains why he’s always around her house and in so many photos,” Max said, folding his arms across his chest.
“Yeah,” Nicolas agreed. “To make a long story short, Martin changed his, and his four brothers‘, last name in an effort to keep them away from the kinds of activities his parents had been involved in. They lived in Maryland near Louise and Geoffrey Charter until they all graduated from college. There were some minor incidents with the law, but Geoffrey got them through it.”
Max leaned against the wall. “So he was born into an Italian family with ties to the Mafia, but apparently he did everything possible to keep himself and his brothers out of that kind of life.“
Kaden flicked Max a quick glance. “It does sound that way, doesn’t it? What else did Lily find, Nico?”
“All the brothers went into the service. Martin led the way, and the rest followed. Most of them went to college and then joined. Martin joined and went to school while he served. He provided for the others along with the Charters.” Nicolas looked up at Max.
“I know he’s been in a couple of fights,” Max said. “Haven’t we all?”
“Did you know his brother Roman has been in and out of the brig a dozen times and has been busted several times down from his rank as an officer? He’s been a troublemaker both in and out of the service.”
“We all have relatives,” Max said.
“Not all,” Dahlia objected.
“Ma cher.” Gator pressed his hand to his heart. “There you go again. Denying our relationship.”
Dahlia smiled and blew him a kiss.
Nicolas’s black gaze settled on Gator’s face. Gator just winked at him, flashing his bad boy grin.
“Quit baiting the tiger,” Kaden advised.
“Alligators eat tigers for breakfast,” Gator bragged, his white teeth bared as he leaned his hip lazily against the wall near the door.
The knife came out of nowhere, flying so fast it was a blur through the air, driving into the wall and taking the ends of Gator’s shiny black hair with it.
Laughter erupted while Dahlia stared in horror at the blade buried nearly to the hilt in the wall. She hadn’t felt the slightest surge of energy, violent or otherwise. Nicolas looked innocently at her. Gator shrugged his wide shoulders, the grin still in place as if someone throwing a knife at him was commonplace.
“You all are nuts,” she declared. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Actually, ‘tite soeur, it was,” Gator said and pulled the knife free. He sauntered over to Nicolas and handed him the weapon, handle first. “I’d fight over you anytime, little sister, and if your man wouldn’t, he’s not much of a man.”
Dahlia frowned at them. “It’s a wonder any of you are still alive.” She began flipping through the photos. “By the way, just for the record, when I go into the building tonight
, I don’t want anyone around. You all worry too much about me, especially Nicolas, and I can’t afford a backlash of energy. All of you will have to just stay put.”
Nicolas raised his eyebrow, his tough features completely expressionless.
“That’s a big negative,” Sam said.
“I don’t think so,” Kaden objected simultaneously.
Gator just laughed. “Oh, ma cher, your sense of humor is growing being around us all.” The smile widened. “Or are you just trying to give Nico heart failure?”
She ignored him and looked at Max. “They seemed to forget I’ve managed all these years without them.”
“What exactly are you planning on doing, Dahlia?” Max asked.
There was a sudden silence. They all looked at her. “Well, gee, Max, I don’t know. Something to do with my job. You know, that highly classified job we both share.”
“I don’t see Jesse here giving you orders.”
“No you don’t, do you, because he’s laid up in a hospital somewhere and I’m going to find out who put him there.” Dahlia’s black eyes flashed, glittering like hard gems. “They killed Milly and Bernadette, Max. And I’m finishing my job.”
“Did you talk to the admiral?”
“I don’t have to talk to the admiral to finish my job.”
Max shook his head and looked over at Nicolas. “And you’re fine with this?”
Before Nicolas could reply, Dahlia glared daggers at Max. “He has nothing to do with it. He doesn’t work for the NCIS, I do. He isn’t my boss. Just back off trying to be intimidating, because it irritates the hell out of me.” And it did. Her temper was rising in direct proportion to the testosterone levels in the room.
Nicolas was happy to see the real Dahlia back in fighting form. She didn’t lie down for anyone. Not that she was going anywhere as dangerous as Lombard Inc. without the GhostWalkers to protect her, but what was the use in arguing with her? He wasn’t going to change, and neither was she. It was good practice for the men to have to guard their emotions carefully in the field. He met Maxwell’s eyes. The man subsided immediately with a small nod of understanding.
GhostWalkers 2 - Mind Game Page 33