Torn Loyalties

by Vicki Hinze

  And so they stood another long minute, letting the tension subside, secure in the knowledge that their relationship had finally found a firm footing in trust.

  * * *

  Later, in the kitchen at Lost, Inc., Madison sat beside Grant and glanced out the window. Not quite dawn, the sky was just starting to lighten, strands of pink and gold barely showing on the horizon. The office was silent, except for the drip of the coffeemaker. No one else had arrived yet for the workday and, grateful for the respite, Madison watched Grant rise, fill their favorite mugs with steaming hot coffee, then carry them back to the table.

  He slid her Minnie Mouse mug to her. “There you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Mmm.” He swallowed a deep sip. “Are you up for a deep and serious talk?”

  “Honestly, I’m not.” She took a sip. The heat felt good on her parched throat. “I’m eager for answers, but they can wait.” She turned toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This can’t.” She kissed him fully, completely, openly, holding nothing back. All her fear for him and of him, her worry about the situation, even her upset over the case, swirled and drained under the tenderness of his mouth on hers.

  Grant finally broke their kiss and looked into her eyes. “I know you still expect full answers and explanations on everything.”

  She nodded.

  “And I expect you’ll scream at me until my ears bleed for doing what I did.”

  “I have to tell you, I’m so relieved you’re alive and Dayton didn’t shoot you that you might just get off easier—not a lot, but a little.”

  He brushed back a strand of her hair. “Grace and mercy are welcome traits.”

  Emotion swelled in her chest, making it tight. She curled her hand at his jaw, not surprised it was trembling. “Thank you for not dying on me, Grant.”

  “Likewise, Madison.”

  Looking into his eyes, she blinked hard and fast. “I—I can’t imagine me without you. Not anymore.”

  He didn’t smile. But the twinkle burned bright in his eyes. “God’s been good to me, and I have so much to be thankful for, but I’m most thankful you’re in my life. I didn’t want to lose you, Madison. I didn’t see how I couldn’t, but—”

  She let out a delicate grunt. “We’ll see what you think about that after we talk about all this. You might have a few things challenge the top spot on your thankful list.”

  “Oh, I hope not. I’ve had enough challenges lately. I could use a break.”

  She gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “We’ll see about that, too.”

  * * *

  Grant couldn’t take it anymore.

  It’d been three days since he had walked out of the Nest with Madison and still she remained not ready to hear what he had to say about anything.

  She kissed him. Hugged him. Was nice to him. Ate meals with him. Laughed with him. But she wouldn’t let him talk about anything except the mundane and insignificant.

  Why? What was she doing?

  In addition to making him crazy, that was.

  Clearly, he had to do something, but what, he had no idea. He needed help. And only one person in the world might have the insight he lacked and be able to help him.

  He walked down the Lost, Inc., hallway, and knocked on the door of the one woman in the world who possibly understood Madison. “Mrs. Renault?” He paused at her open door. It always smelled so good in her office. Fresh flowers. She brought them in every day. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Of course, Grant.” She closed a file on her desk and slid it aside. “What can I do for you?”

  Now that he was here, he wasn’t certain how to bring up the subject, or even certain he should. “How’s the commander’s head?”

  “He still has a nasty headache, but he’s been back for a follow-up visit with his doctor, and he says he’s fine. If he had been hit another inch closer to the temple, we’d be wearing black. Stunning how fragile we are for all our strength, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. I’m glad he’s doing well.” Still mentally stumbling in a tug-of-war on whether or not to discuss Madison, Grant just stood here. He should leave, but if he didn’t talk to her, he’d stay trapped in this maze until who knew when.

  “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “I’m floundering,” he admitted, letting her see his anguish.

  Her expression softened. Encouraged, he pressed on. “She won’t talk to me. I mean, we talk, but we don’t really talk—about anything that matters.” He paced in front of her fireplace. “I keep trying to explain myself, but she cuts me off. She just won’t listen.” He stopped suddenly and dragged an agitated hand through his hair. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll die of old age before I can even ask for her forgiveness much less get her interested in the real me.”

  Mrs. Renault, who took serious exception to touching her own face in public, covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Are you laughing at me?” He was spilling his guts and she was laughing? “You find this amusing?”

  “Absolutely not. I’m not laughing—I’m shocked.”

  “Oh.” About what? Him? Madison? Them? What?

  “And relieved.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve been doubtful she would ever let anyone close to her, and now she has.”

  “Maybe we’ve got a communications break here. She won’t talk to me or hear me out. She’s pushing me away.”

  “Oh, quite the opposite, Grant.” A little bemused, Mrs. Renault curled her fingers to her jaw and looked over at him. “Remember, my dear, our Madison was confined. Think about what that did to her. Think about the joy that comes after it, at being free.” Mrs. Renault removed her glasses from her nose. “Right now, Madison is giving birth to her future. She’s looking ahead from a joyful place.”

  “How is her not hearing me out a joyful place?”

  “After being confined in Afghanistan, she didn’t have the opportunity to embrace that joyful place. All of her energy and thoughts were laser-focused on getting out of that country and back here. When she did, she still was denied joy. Her parents were shadows of their former selves. They’d grieved so hard for her, shells of them were all that was left. She couldn’t rejoice then.”

  “No,” he said, sitting down in her visitor’s chair and bracing his arms on his knees. “That had to devastate her all over again.”

  “It did,” Mrs. Renault said, sadness in her eyes and her tone. “She had to devote herself to restoring them, and by the grace of God and with His help, she did.”

  Grant followed her train of thought. “But even then, she couldn’t be joyful. She had to make sure it didn’t happen to someone else.”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Renault sighed. “Building Lost, Inc., from the ground up, hiring other wounded souls to help her. Still, she had no time to indulge in the gift of just being free to do as she pleased—not while lost ones awaited rescue.”

  Grant’s heart felt squeezed at the urgency driving Madison. Year after year, always putting others and their needs first. “But there’ll always be someone lost waiting, Mrs. Renault.”

  “Yes, there will.” Sadness filled her eyes. “That she can’t rescue them all is the demon that torments Madison. It isn’t that she doesn’t know that she can’t save them all. It’s that she refuses to accept it.”

  Grant let that roll over in his mind. “She’s following her purpose.”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Renault seemed pleased that he’d gotten it. Grant recalled the many hours he’d agonized at trying to do his duty, keep his promises and oaths and not betray Madison. Being at odds and torn between the three was an emotional tightrope that kept him torn up inside and struggling for balance.

  “I’m well aware you understand these things. You’ve had your own purpose to follow, and it’s been difficult at ti
mes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Madison is determined to do everything humanly possible to help them all, even at her own expense. And with her trust issue... Of course, she’s worked through that, at least with a few of us.”

  Did she still trust him? She said she did, but when things settled down, would she? Grant frowned. “The risks that she takes worry me.”

  “I can see that.”

  He laced his hands. “Mrs. Renault, it’s been my experience that when you give everything, you lose something. If Madison doesn’t accept that she can’t save all the lost—”

  “She’ll lose herself.” Mrs. Renault nodded. “Which is why I’m here. To help make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “She’s lucky to have you.”

  She gave him the infamous brow lift. “When Madison came home, I realized quickly I had to do more than worry about her.” She tilted her head. “We all have our purpose.”

  “You admire her.”

  “Enormously.”

  “She loves you.”

  “It’s mutual. She’s the daughter of my heart, Grant.”

  Realization dawned. Being a commander’s wife most of her adult life, Mrs. Renault had a deep admiration and genuine affection for those who served, and fierce protective instincts. Aligning with Madison had been to help Madison. But Mrs. Renault was every bit as determined to save the lost as her boss.

  “So you see, until this moment, Madison has been out of balance, so to speak. Single-mindedly focused on fulfilling her purpose but burying herself and her needs. God wants us to be joyful, and she’s finally recognizing that and giving joy its proper place in her life.” Mrs. Renault’s lips curved in a soft smile. “You’re afraid she hates you, but she doesn’t, my dear. In her way, she’s celebrating her life, and you’re a big part of that.”

  “So I shouldn’t push her to let me explain.”

  “She’s waited a long time to feel joyful, Grant. Why not give her a little time to get used to it.” She sniffed. “I imagine she’s groping to come to terms with it, and it hasn’t yet settled in.”

  He understood all this but remained a little confused. “I totally get her joy at being free. I don’t get the way she’s treating me.”

  “How is she treating you?”

  “Well, she’s not tense or wary. She’s being...well, wonderful.” He frowned at Mrs. Renault. “You know that’s just not normal Madison behavior—not with me. I understood her when she suspected I was spying on her and her staff. I went through the same counterintelligence training she did. Her behavior made sense. But I violated her trust and that was a huge issue with her before then. Trusting me at all was really hard for her, but she did it, and yet learning I crossed her doesn’t seem to have impacted her. I don’t understand that. You say she doesn’t hate me, but I wonder if she really does. Or maybe she’s setting me up as payback.”

  “How uncharacteristically cynical, even for you, Grant. Rethink your conclusions, dear.”

  He’d missed the mark. Everything in Mrs. Renault’s reaction proved it. He stared out the window and watched cars go down the street, even more confused than when he’d entered her office.

  “Doubt is a mean taskmaster,” she said. “It’ll lay claim wherever it finds a welcome sign, earned or not. Madison cares for you. When she discovered the truth, she had to make a choice. The easy, obvious one. Or the more difficult one.”

  “I wish she’d just yell at me and get it over with—once and for... That’s why she’s doing it.”

  “That would ease your conscience, wouldn’t it? Make you feel better about your own actions.”

  It would, but Madison wasn’t trying to ease his conscience. She wanted him to stew in guilt. Thunder crossed his expression. “Thanks, Mrs. Renault. Finally this is making sense.” He stormed out of her office.

  Mrs. Renault rolled her gaze. She’d tried to tell him, but he’d heard only what he’d been ready, willing and able to hear. This was Madison joyful. She wasn’t plotting his misery. She was healing.

  Mrs. Renault reached for the file she’d been working on before his interruption.

  Sooner or later, he’d figure it out.

  * * *

  Madison sat in her office, leaning back with her bare feet propped on her desk, reviewing her lead investigator Della Jackson’s new case-status report. She was getting better at meeting her deadlines—this report was only a week late—but considering she’d just returned from her honeymoon with her new husband, Paul Mason, and she was helping her new sister-in-law, Madison’s best friend, Maggie Mason, plan her wedding, Madison was just fine with Della’s report being tardy. Seeing them all so happy was worth a week. Two weeks, even.

  Grant stormed in. “Madison, we need to talk.”

  She lowered her legs and slid on her flats. “What’s wrong?” She set the file down on her desk. “You look—”

  “I want to clear the air between us, and I want to do it now.” He sat down on the corner of her desk, crowding her knees. “I don’t know if you’re playing some game with me or what you’re thinking about us, and frankly it’s making me crazy.”

  “What?” He thought he was clueless? She wasn’t feeling very connected herself at the moment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Grant.” Her stomach sank. “I thought things were going well with us.”

  So this was the tack he was going to take. He couldn’t bring himself to betray her and then just walk out of her life as if it all had meant nothing, so he staged this big breakup scene to soothe his conscience. The bright and shiny and new had worn off, and it had taken only three days. Her heart shattered. So much for believing it was possible he really did care for her.

  “Things are going great—and that’s the problem.” He glared at her. “Four months we’ve been together and not a day—not one—has been smooth sailing, Madison.” He lifted a hand toward her. “This woman isn’t you. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t like it. I’m trying over and over to explain why I did what I did, and you won’t let me say a word about it. I can’t talk, much less get you to listen to me.”

  Furious, she stood up. “I’m not playing anything.” She curled her hands at her sides. “I’ve walked in your world. I know why you did what you did. I’ve been showing you that no explanation is required because—” she raised her voice “—I trust you.”

  “You trust me.” He let out a sigh that would power a wind farm for a month.

  “Unconditionally!” She glared back at him. “Though at the moment, I’m having a hard time—”

  The phone rang.

  She snatched it up. “Yes.”

  “Andrew phoned,” Mrs. Renault said. “I realize you and Grant are, um, in conference, but Andrew says it’s vital he speak to you both now. He wants you to come to his office right away.”

  “Thank you.” Madison hung up the phone and met Grant’s gaze. “Command performance in Talbot’s office.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know, but he wants us there now and he says it’s vital.” She opened a desk drawer and retrieved her purse.

  “Madison, wait.” Grant touched her shoulder. “I—I—”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I know, Grant. Me, too.”

  “No, this time I will say what I intend to say.”

  She tensed, waited. Please, don’t let it be something awful.

  His expression turned tender. “I care about you.”

  Madison smiled. “I care about you, too.” She raised a hand to cup his jaw. “Are you worried?”

  “About Talbot? Yes.” Grant frowned. “So much has happened and I thought things were going to settle down—”

  “I meant, are you worried about us?”

  He hesitated, then spilled out the truth.
“Absolutely.”

  “Have a little faith.” She repeated to him the same thing she’d been telling herself for the past three days. “Things will work out exactly as they’re supposed to work out.”

  “Will that be with us being together?”

  She headed toward the door. “I don’t know.” Didn’t she wish she did! “That’s where the faith comes in.”

  “Madison—”

  “We need to go now, Grant,” she interrupted. “Talbot’s waiting.”

  SEVEN

  With Lieutenant Blake no longer manning the gate to Talbot’s office, Madison wasn’t surprised to see Beecher sitting at that outer desk.

  “Been demoted?” Grant asked, a teasing lilt in his tone.

  Beecher nodded. “Until this thing with Dayton and Blake is settled, it appears so. But I’m looking at it as a lateral move.”

  Madison couldn’t resist piping in to defend Talbot’s choice. “He needs people he can trust close to him.”

  “You’ll move up the ranks, Beecher. He’ll see to it,” Grant said.

  “Not complaining.” Worry flooded his eyes. “Just hoping when all the dust settles, he’s still standing.”

  “What’s going on?” Grant asked.

  “It’s best if he explains.” He lifted the phone. “They’re here, sir,” he said into the receiver.

  Beecher was more than a little concerned, and for far more than just his own career. That didn’t bode well, and from Grant’s suddenly grim expression, he, too, knew it.

  The heavy metal door into Talbot’s office opened and he appeared at it. “Grant. Madison. Thanks so much for coming.” Talbot ushered them into his office, shut the door behind them and then motioned to the visitor’s chairs. “Sit down.”

  “You said it was vital we get here right away.” Madison took the seat on the right. The leather seemed to melt under her, soft as butter.

  When Grant took the seat beside her, Talbot rounded his desk and sat down in his desk chair. Its springs creaked under his weight.

  “It is. I’ve got a dilemma,” Talbot said. “After all that’s happened, I have no right to ask for your help, but I am. This is bigger than me and, frankly, bigger than the two of you. It’s a matter of national security.”