Lethal Memory (A Counterstrike Novel Book 2)

by Jannine Gallant

  “I . . .” She hesitated for a moment. “Okay. See you soon.”

  “Bye, Riley.” Noah disconnected and pulled open the bottom desk drawer. Odd . . . He didn’t remember looking in that particular drawer recently. It stuck short of closing tight unless he gave it a hard shove. Not that he always did. He sorted through the contents, mostly memorabilia. Photo albums. Medals from his track running days in high school. A stack of letters his grandpa had written to him.

  He pushed the drawer closed with his knee before rising to his feet. Thinking about the only member of his family who had truly understood him wouldn’t accomplish a thing. His current reality was keeping Riley safe from harm, and that meant getting a few hours of sleep so he could function more efficiently. Minutes later, he stripped off his clothes, tossed them in the hamper, and crawled into bed. Not allowing himself to stew over the possibility of her questionable ethics, he closed his eyes . . .

  His ringing cell phone woke him from a deep sleep. Blinking in the dimly lit room, he glanced at the bedside clock before reaching for his phone. He’d been asleep for six hours. Shit.

  The name on the display brought him fully awake as he swiped to connect. “Riley? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t want to wake you sooner than necessary, but I was afraid you’d leave without calling. Jaimee and Eli are driving back today instead of staying in New Hampshire longer. They’re giving me a ride home.”

  “Oh.” He rubbed his scratchy jaw and yawned. “That’s good. What time do you expect to get back?”

  “Six-ish. Eli has to fly to New York tonight for an early meeting with his publisher tomorrow. I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “Have them drop you at my place instead.” Noah sat up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. “Someone could be keeping an eye on your house.”

  “All right, but I do need to go back there in the near future to switch out my clothes. Did you get some sleep?”

  “Plenty. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  “Okay. Bye, Noah.”

  He disconnected, laid the phone on the nightstand, and headed for the shower. Thirty minutes later, he’d dressed and eaten the lone apple left in the fruit bowl. Time to figure out how the hell someone had tracked them to Maine. And if he unraveled that mystery, maybe he’d discover who the asshole taking shots at him was. Someone had learned about his grandparents’ home, and the list of people with access to his personal information was short.

  He tapped his phone to bring up the directory and dialed his brother’s number. After several rings, a familiar gruff voice told him to leave a message.

  “Garth, it’s Noah. I need to ask you something. Call me back, please.”

  Standing at the kitchen window, staring out into the narrow, fenced backyard where snow coated the bare branches of a maple tree, he leaned against the counter and called his mom.

  “Noah, how are you?” His mother’s cheerful voice made him smile. “Are you coming down here for Thanksgiving?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Busy. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it to Florida for the holiday. I’m sure you and Dad have plans, anyway.”

  “Actually, the Robertsons invited us . . .” She talked on and on, describing all the happenings in their retirement community.

  Noah went out to the back porch for an armload of wood while he listened. With the cell on speaker, he wadded newspaper and arranged kindling in the fireplace. Finally, he broke into his mother’s monologue. “I’m glad you and Dad are staying so active. Actually, I was calling to see if anyone contacted you recently, asking about where I might stay outside Boston. In particular, if you mentioned the Maine house.”

  “Good heavens, no. We haven’t spoken to anyone about you, not in months. I remember Fran asking if your sister still lives in Paris, but . . .” She was off again, rattling on about her neighbor’s interest in ballet.

  Striking a match, he lit the paper. “You’re sure Dad didn’t get a call?” He raised his voice to interrupt her.

  “Of course I’m sure. He would certainly have mentioned it. Why would someone call us about your grandparents’ old home?”

  “I’m glad no one bothered you. If you do get a call, just hang up—”

  “Honey, do you have a stalker. Maybe some woman you dumped? I don’t know why you can’t find a nice girl—”

  “No, nothing like that. This is work related. Just an annoyance, really. It was good talking to you, Mom.” With the fire crackling and flames leaping up the chimney, he rose to his feet and headed back to the kitchen.

  “I’m glad you phoned. Oh, by the way, did Garth get ahold of you? He had some sort of nine-eleven presentation scheduled in Boston. If I’m remembering correctly, he should be there right now.”

  “No, he didn’t, but I’ll call him. Maybe we can get together.” Spending time with his brother wasn’t at the top of his to-do list. Still, offering to make the effort was sure to please his mother.

  “I’m sure he’d love to see you if his schedule isn’t too full. I’d better go, dear. I’ll call you again soon.”

  “Okay. Bye, Mom.” Noah hung up and immediately called Garth a second time.

  This time, his brother answered. “I just got your message. What’s wrong? You wouldn’t call me unless Mom or Dad—”

  “No one died, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just got off the phone with Mom. She said you’re in Boston.” The dull roar of conversation and laughter in the background suggested his brother was in a bar. No surprise there.

  “I’m talking at a few area high schools. They like to bring in first responders who can give the kids a personal account of nine-eleven.”

  Noah clenched his teeth and refrained from saying what he was thinking. The tale Garth would relate to the students wouldn’t be anywhere near the truth. He let out a slow breath. “Have you talked to anyone about me lately?”

  “Huh? Whaddaya mean?” He raised his voice to be heard.

  “Pretty straightforward question. Specifically, has anyone asked you where I like to go outside the city?”

  “No, of course not.” He hesitated for a moment. “Actually, a couple of days ago, I was passing the time with a guy in a bar—”

  “Here in Boston?”

  “Yes. I’ve been in town for a while now since I had presentations the end of last week and another one tomorrow. I would have gotten around to calling you eventually . . .”

  Noah rolled his eyes. “Did someone mention me?”

  “We were talking football, but then—” He broke off and said something Noah didn’t hear. “Hey, this place is damn loud. The happy hour crowd is taking over the joint. Why don’t I stop by your house for dinner? I’ll bring beer.”

  Noah let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. Do you remember where I live?”

  “I have your address. The cab driver will find it. See you shortly.”

  Noah hung up, then closed his eyes and swore softly. He’d forgotten Riley was on her way over. His brother would probably be half drunk before he even arrived.

  Real nice.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d introduced someone he was dating to his brother. Probably back in high school. Before he’d found out about Garth’s lies. When he’d still hero-worshipped him. If Riley balked at his dysfunctional brother, at least he’d know now, before he got in too deep with her.

  Casting off the fear that he was already neck high in their relationship, he opened the freezer to search for something he could throw together for a meal. A bag of raviolis looked promising. He found a jar of sauce in the pantry and a bag of salad in the fridge that hadn’t expired yet. A simple dinner, but he didn’t think either of his guests would mind.

  He was chopping a tomato to toss into the salad when the doorbell rang. Wondering who had arrived first and hoping it was Riley, he dropped the knife on the cutting board, hurried to the door, and threw it open.

  Luck was with him. Riley huddled in her jacket, cheeks pink b
elow her bright blue eyes as she smiled at him. Out in the driveway, a horn honked before Eli’s BMW reversed onto the street and pulled away.

  “Come in.” He lifted the overnight bag sitting on the welcome mat in one hand and tugged her inside with the other. Stormy followed, shaking off a light dusting of snow onto the floor. Noah shut the door, dropped the suitcase, and bent to kiss her. “Your lips are cold.”

  “It’s freezing out there. And snowing pretty hard.” She glanced downward. “Stormy got your floor wet. Sorry.”

  “It’ll dry. Let me hang your coat. Come sit by the fire to warm up.” A minute later, he took her hand and led her into the living room.

  She dropped onto the hearth rug and wrapped her arms around her updrawn knees. “Your home is nice.”

  “It’s fairly close to work, which is convenient.” Sitting next to her, he slid an arm around her waist as Stormy flopped down beside them. “So, how’d it go with Scarlet and Eli?”

  “They’re both terrific, and they did their best to make sure I didn’t feel like a third wheel all weekend.”

  “Scarlet must like you. She’s not big on pretense.”

  Riley smiled. “I got the feeling she’s pretty direct. As for anyone snooping around . . . that estate is so huge, it would have been extremely difficult to get close to me.”

  “If someone had breached the fence, Scarlet would have been aware of it and dealt with the intruder.”

  “I imagine so. She certainly hustled me back from our hike post haste when we heard a gunshot. She wasn’t taking any chances.”

  He jerked back. “What gunshot?”

  “Out in the woods the day I arrived. Jaimee suspected it was a hunter since the shot came from quite a distance away.”

  “I’m not crazy about the coincidence, but how the hell would anyone have known you were there that quickly?”

  “I’ve no idea, which is why the hunter theory makes more sense.”

  At a knock on the door, Stormy sprang to her feet and barked.

  “Dammit.” Noah pushed up off the rug. When he laid a hand on the dog’s head, she quieted.

  Riley tilted her head to look up at him. “Are you expecting someone. If you’re busy this evening, I can—”

  “You’re not going anywhere, if that’s what you were about to suggest. It’s my brother. He’s been in Boston for a few days, and I need to ask him a couple of questions.”

  “So, I get to meet some of your family? Great.”

  “Not great.” He scowled. “However, I’d better let him in.” When she started to rise, he held up a hand. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.”

  Noah hurried from the room and pulled open the front door. His brother stood on the stoop, his back to him. He turned slowly and nodded in greeting. “I wondered if I had the right address.”

  “Apparently so. Come inside.”

  Garth pulled off a knit hat and shook it before he brushed past him, carrying a six pack of beer under one arm. “Good to see you, Noah.” There was only a hint of slur to his words. He appeared to be mostly sober.

  Noah shut the door. “It’s been a while. You look . . . well.”

  In truth, his brother looked anything but. His face was slightly puffy, and there was far more gray than brown in his hair. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the three since Noah had seen him last.

  “Hang your jacket on the hook and head into the kitchen to your right. Dinner is almost ready. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Noah stepped into the living room and met Riley’s gaze. She stood in front of the fireplace and raised one brow. “Do you plan to keep us in separate rooms all evening?”

  He grinned. “Tempting, but no. You can help me finish up dinner, such as it is.”

  “I definitely can.”

  He reached for her hand. “All right. Let’s do this. Come meet my brother.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Riley stood at the sink, washing the dinner dishes. Noah had protested when she’d announced her intention of cleaning up the kitchen, but she’d remained firm, leaving the two brothers alone at the dining room table. Out of sight, but not out of hearing range. Her lips pressed tightly together as she rinsed the salad bowl and set it on the drainer before reaching for the ravioli pan.

  “Can you lay off the beer until you’ve answered my questions.” Noah’s voice held a note of derision. “Or is that too much to ask?”

  “Screw you, dude. Always so damn perfect.” A short silence followed before an empty can hit the table with a hollow click. “To hell with it. I’m out of here.” A chair scraped backward.

  “Not until you answer my questions. Some asshole shot at me while Riley and I were up in Maine. Maybe you don’t give a crap if someone pegs me, but Riley—”

  “I like her. No chip a mile wide on her shoulders. She could do a whole lot better than you. Hook up with a guy who isn’t so freaking judgmental.” Booted feet hit the floor to punctuate his words.

  Riley tightened her grip on the pot until her knuckles turned white.

  “I’m sure she could, but right now I want to know who you talked to about me. When was this, anyway?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake. I didn’t say anything to get you shot at. Besides, isn’t that what you do for a living? Risk your life to save people? You don’t turn tail in the face of danger, not perfect Noah.”

  “Focus, Garth. When did you have the conversation about me?”

  He let out a harsh breath. “You’re like a dog with a damn bone.” The pop and hiss of a beer can followed his words. “It was Friday night after my presentation at Cambridge High. A college football game was playing on the TV in the bar where I stopped to unwind. I was shooting the breeze with this guy and mentioned I was in town to talk to students about what it was like at the Twin Towers on nine-eleven.”

  Riley reached for a dishtowel to dry the pan, then set it on the counter with more force than was necessary. From her spot on the floor in front of the refrigerator, Stormy lifted her head and blinked before going back to sleep. While Garth rambled on, she wiped down the counters and stove, scrubbing away a spot of spilled sauce until the surface gleamed.

  “Great, you told him you were a hero. How did my name come up?” Noah interrupted.

  “When I told him who I was, he asked if I was related to Noah Kimble, the doctor. I said you were my brother.”

  “Who was he?” Noah spoke sharply.

  “His name was Pete. I don’t remember if he told me his last name. He said he’d met you briefly last spring at a charity event. You were with an old friend of his who died while working for Counterstrike. This blond dude drinking alone a couple of stools down turned to stare at us when he said that.”

  “Did you tell him anything else about me?”

  “Nope. Pete did all the talking.” Glancing up when Riley paused in the doorway, Garth gave her a quick look before picking up his beer to take a swallow.

  “What else did he have to say?” Noah asked.

  “Nothing. I was bored with the conversation and got up to head to the John. When I came out, the blond dude had moved over to my stool and was talking to Pete. I left the bar. End of story.”

  “I remember that event.” Noah smiled briefly at her when she came farther into the room. “If you spoke to this guy Pete on Friday, he couldn’t have had anything to do with the shooter in Maine, since that occurred on Thursday night.”

  “Then why the hell did you give me the third degree about him?” Garth set his beer can down with a thump. “I’m going to take off.”

  “I’m curious about anyone who mentions me in connection to Counterstrike.” Noah spoke in a mild tone. “Thanks for stopping by, Garth.”

  “Sure. Maybe I’ll see you in another three years.” He nodded at Riley. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “Same.” She rounded the table. “I’ll walk you to the door if you’re certain you need to leave so soon.”

  “I’m positive.” In the entry, Ga
rth lifted a heavy wool jacket from the rack and shrugged it on. “I wish you the best of luck with my brother.”

  She raised a brow. “You think I’ll need luck?”

  He snorted. “Maybe not if you’re as perfect as Noah. His expectations are pretty damn high.”

  “I haven’t known him long, but I do know he’s loyal to the core. Even though you two obviously have issues, I’m certain he’d be there for you if you needed him.”

  He studied her for a moment through bloodshot eyes the same dark brown as Noah’s. While his puffy face had the broken veins of a man who drank heavily, Riley guessed he’d once been every bit as handsome as his brother.

  “I used to think that he’d have my back the same way I’d have his. Not anymore.” He opened the door, and a cold gust of wind swirled snowflakes into the house. “Bye, Riley.”

  She shivered and wrapped her arms across her chest. “It’s freezing out there. Let me call you a cab.”

  “I don’t mind the cold, and I could use the walk to clear my head. See you around.”

  The door slammed shut with a sharp whack. Taking a moment to compose herself, she finally turned and headed back into the dining room.

  Noah glanced over his shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen carrying the empty beer cans. “Did he leave?”

  “Yes.” She clenched her fists at her sides as she followed him out of the room. “Aren’t you a little hard on your brother?”

  “I’m not an enabler, and he has some serious problems.” Noah dumped the cans into the recycle bin. “I’m not just talking about his drinking, either. I offered to get him into a decent counseling program, but he wasn’t interested.” He leaned against the counter as Stormy scrambled to her feet and sauntered out of the room. “His whole life is a lie. I should simply forgive him for that?”

  “What did he do that’s so horrible?”

  Noah spun around to stare out the kitchen window into the darkness. “He told you at dinner why he was in Boston.”

  “Talking to high school kids about nine-eleven. Seems like a stand-up thing to do, volunteering his time that way.” Riley couldn’t help wondering what was going through Noah’s head as he stood stiff and unyielding across the room from her. “It can’t be easy to talk about a day when he lost so many of his fellow firefighters.”