Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  “Lucy?”

  “We’ll get you out of there.”

  There was a keypad on the wall. Pierce typed in the code; it worked.

  The cage clicked open.

  Lucy ran in and hugged him while Pierce looked for a key to get him out of the chains.

  She kissed him, held him, started crying.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, holding her.

  She had no words. Nothing. “I love you. I love you.” It was all she could say, over and over.

  Sean broke down sobbing and held her tight.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

  The Houston police had Sean handcuffed to a hospital bed until they were satisfied with the evidence the FBI had retrieved at Jonathan Paxton’s estate and the FBI recording from Lucy’s wire that Elise admitted she’d killed Mona Hill. They tried to stomp their feet and demand an investigation into the other claims Elise made about Sean letting Mona escape and blackmailing her, but Steven Pierce got them to stand down. Lucy greatly appreciated his efforts.

  Kate finally convinced Sheffield to tell the truth about the shooting in the van, so Sean was cleared of escaping from custody and killing a cop. That, coupled with Erica Anderson’s testimony, fully cleared him.

  On Monday morning, Nate drove Jesse to see Sean in the hospital. Sean hadn’t wanted Jesse to see him hurt, but Lucy told Sean that they both needed each other.

  She was right.

  That night, when Sean was released from the hospital, Patrick and Nate drove everyone back to San Antonio, except for Kate, who stayed in Houston to help wrap up the reports with Houston PD and the FBI. There was a lot to do and Kate would be there all week making sure that Sean was completely cleared by all law enforcement authorities—as well as making sure that the media reported on it so a private citizen didn’t see him and pull a gun, thinking Sean was still a wanted fugitive.

  When they arrived home that night, Jack and Kane were already at the house along with Siobhan. They’d set up a large buffet of food for the group, but Sean said he was tired and wanted to sleep.

  “What can I get for you?” Lucy asked him quietly as she helped him up the stairs.

  “Nothing. I want to shower. Sleep. Just—go talk to Jack and everyone. Tell them I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.”

  He kissed her. “I will be.”

  “Do you need help?”

  He shook his head. She wanted to help him … but maybe he just needed space.

  Bandit followed him into their bedroom and Sean closed the door.

  Lucy was worried about Sean, but maybe he was right—a shower and sleeping in his own bed was what he needed. He was home safe, and that’s what mattered.

  She went back downstairs. Siobhan hugged her. “You need food.”

  “I will. In a minute.” She watched as Nate, Patrick, and Jesse all dished up food. They were worried about Sean, too, but now that they were all home the pressure was off.

  She sank onto the living room couch and sighed. It had been the worst three days of her life.

  Jack sat down next to her. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she said.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I know.” She looked up the stairs. “He’s safe, he’s alive, but I’m worried about him.”

  “He has you, Lucy. He needs some time to process all of this. I can stay as long as you need me.”

  She took her brother’s hand and squeezed it. “You and Megan and Patrick—everyone rallied for Sean. I—” Tears threatened and she didn’t want to cry again. She didn’t think she’d ever get the sight of Sean in so much pain out of her mind. In a cage. Sobbing, bloodied, nearly broken.

  “Family, Lucy. We’ll always be here.”

  Patrick came over and handed Lucy a plate of food. “Eat, or else.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and smiled. He sat across from her with his own food. “How long can you stay?”

  “As long as you want,” Patrick said. “But you and Sean might not want a full house.”

  Jack waved his hand. “This place is huge. There’s an apartment over the garage, that’s mine and Megan’s right now. Kane and Siobhan always take the pool house. Nate practically lives in the downstairs guest room.

  “We have another bedroom upstairs,” Lucy said. “It’s all yours.”

  Family, Jack had said. And really, that was all anyone needed.

  * * *

  On Tuesday morning, Lucy slipped out while Sean was still sleeping and went to her office.

  Rachel, her boss, had insisted.

  Nate was also there. Before she went in, she asked, “What happened?”

  “Suspended without pay for two weeks. I knew that already, but I had to brief the team on my active cases. I’m fine with it. Honestly, it could have been worse.”

  “What did you do? You weren’t suspended for helping me, were you?”

  “No. I disobeyed orders and worked a case after being suspended. The drug case. Seriously, I could have had to go in front of OPR. I could have lost my job. I might the next time.”

  Lucy was stricken. She knew that was a possibility … but she didn’t want to think about it. “Nate, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Lucy, it’s okay. Aggie and I saved Brad’s life, I’d do it all again. In fact, if I lost this job, I’d be okay.”

  “As long as you’re okay,” she said, hoping that he wasn’t lying to her.

  “I am. But what happened to Sean—how everyone here was slapped down if they wanted to help you, I’m not okay with that. We have to be there for each other. We’re supposed to be a team.”

  “You are, Nate. I would never have gotten through this without you.”

  “Something good came out of it.”

  “What? I can’t be happy about all the bloodshed. It didn’t have to end that way.”

  “No, it didn’t, but it did and we’ll get through it. We saved Brad. He’s being released from the hospital tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’ll go over to see him. Is he really okay?”

  “I don’t know—he has a long road ahead of him. Physical therapy. Plastic surgery. But he’s a tough guy. I’ll join you when you visit him. Aggie will, too.”

  “Aggie?”

  “That’s the good thing that happened. I asked Aggie to go out with me.”

  She blinked. “Like on a date? You never talk about dating anyone.”

  He shrugged. “Never found anyone I was interested in enough to share with my friends. She’s smart. She’s not intimidated by me, she’s willing to stand up for what she wants. I like that. She’s not perfect—she needs some training.”

  Lucy started to get angry. “Training?”

  Nate laughed. “You should see your face. Tactical training. She’s good at the gun range, but she made a tactical error at the house and put herself in the line of fire. Fortunately, she’s a quick study and I’ll have her up to speed in no time. It’ll be fun.”

  Lucy was embarrassed. “I can’t believe I thought anything else.”

  “She got suspended, too. One week, but with pay—Brad vetoed Salter on that one. We’re going to visit her family in Dallas. Flying out tonight. I’m just going to stop by and see Sean again first, make sure he doesn’t need anything.”

  “You’re already visiting her family? That was fast.”

  “Is it?”

  “I’m really happy. I like Aggie a lot.”

  Rachel opened her door. “Lucy.”

  “It’ll be okay,” he said.

  Lucy walked into Rachel’s office and closed the door behind her. “You’ve already talked to Nate, I see.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Two weeks, unpaid leave. A mark in your file. And OPR wants to interview you.”

  Her heart sank.

  “Sit.”

  She did.

  “I understand that this was an unusual and difficult situation. On the one hand, Houston FBI wrote u
p an accommodation and I heard the recording. There is nothing wrong with what happened at Paxton’s. Except for the fact that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. If anything had gone wrong—this would be a far more serious conversation.

  “The problem is your investigation into Mona Hill’s murder. Your brother as well, but he’s not an FBI agent, and I have no authority over him. Houston PD is livid. They feel we kept information from them, and that you and your brother interfered with their investigation. You’re going to have to answer to OPR on that. This will be your third time in three years in front of them. I think you need to be prepared for the worst.”

  “Honestly, ma’am, I’ve already faced the worst.”

  Rachel rubbed her eyes. “I know. For what it’s worth, you don’t have to be in D.C. until Friday. They’ve asked for all your records. Abigail has been talking to some people who have verbally praised your work and asked for a written letter, without saying why. We already have glowing letters from several local law enforcement and she expects more. The head of SAPD SWAT during the hostage situation last year is sending one, and of course the DEA has sent multiple letters over the last two years, every time you’ve helped. I don’t know if the positive commentary is going to sway them, but I hope it does.”

  “Thank you,” Lucy said, surprised.

  “This wasn’t an easy decision for me, to be honest. Losing both you and Nate for the next two weeks is going to be hard. But … take the time to heal. I know these last few days have been hell.”

  * * *

  Sean half listened to Kane and Jack tell their tale of Mexico. It sounded interesting, but he was still having a difficult time coming to terms with everything that had happened. He still felt like he was trapped. Even though he was here, at home, with his family and his dog, he felt like he was suffocating. Or in limbo. Definitely not himself.

  “Sean,” Kane said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Talk.”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. You hurting?”

  “No.” General soreness, cracked ribs, and he still had some bruises that smarted, but he wasn’t in pain.

  Jack walked out of the sunroom, leaving Sean with his brother. Sean still didn’t want to talk about everything that had happened. He stared out the window at the pool. Someone had turned on the waterfall, but Sean really wasn’t focused on anything. Bandit was at his feet; his dog hadn’t left his side since he came home.

  Kane stared at him. “What did he say that has you so twisted inside?”

  How did Kane know?

  “It’s called psychological warfare, Sean.”

  “It goes back to my deepest fear. That I don’t deserve Lucy. That she would be happier—safer—with someone else.”

  “Oh for shit’s sake.”

  Kane would never understand. And Sean wasn’t quite ready to talk about the sound of rodents, the fear of being trapped, helpless.

  “Do you think that I deserve Siobhan? I can tell you flat-out that I know she’d be safer without me in her life. Does that make me selfish? Maybe it does. Because I pushed her away time and time again because I was worried that I’d get her killed. But dammit, I know she’s happy with me. Safety. That’s just bullshit. Who the fuck is ever truly safe? We either live big or die small. I see how Lucy looks at you and I know that she loves you. And that is all that fucking matters. She loves you, she’s happiest when she’s with you, end of story.”

  “Colton hated me so much that he helped Paxton set this all up. He really hated me. I’ve never felt it so strongly … and it was my fault. I hurt him, and I knew I would hurt him, and I did it anyway. To save my own ass, to save my relationship with Lucy.”

  “Sean, I’ve done things I wish I’d done differently. But you can’t live in the past with constant regrets. You learn from your mistakes and move on. Colton was no saint, either.”

  Sean heard Lucy come in through the garage, heard Jack tell her that he was in the sun room. She walked in and Kane stood up. “Talk to your husband,” he said and left.

  Lucy sat next to him on the couch and kissed him. “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t want to talk about it. “What happened at work?”

  “Two weeks unpaid vacation,” she said, trying to make light of it. “And we get to visit Patrick and Dillon and everyone in D.C. this weekend.”

  “OPR?”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “What if it’s not?”

  “Then it’s not.”

  “How can you be okay with this? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I’m okay. Nate’s okay. But you’re not. Talk to me.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long minute. He just held her, the woman he had loved from the day they met. “Mona Hill’s murder and the jailbreak and killing the guard wasn’t enough. Paxton didn’t know if all that would destroy me or make you think that I was bad for you. They had another plan. Colton was going to frame me for a major cyber breach—then confess that he helped me with the crime. And the crime was something he and I had talked about in college. Something we had wanted to do … and he had a record of our planning. He was willing to lie because Paxton asked him to … and because Colton hated me so much he wanted to hurt me. And this was how to hurt me. To destroy me in your eyes.”

  His voice cracked. He couldn’t bear to think about what might have happened if he didn’t have family and friends. If Paxton had killed him first, set him up later. If Lucy believed the lies … the frame … because it was so well done.

  “I will always believe you, Sean. Always. Paxton was obsessed with me—I didn’t believe Dillon when he said it, then I saw the portrait of me on his wall. It hit me. You are not to blame. For any of this.”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “It hurts because you and Colton were so close for so long.”

  “He saved me, Lucy, after I was expelled from Stanford. For four years we were inseparable. And now, he wanted to hurt me. It’s my fault.”

  “It’s Colton’s fault. He couldn’t get beyond what happened in New York. Remember, everything then was his idea, and if you weren’t there he would have died. You saved his life—he should have forgiven you for lying to him.”

  “He’ll never see it that way.”

  “That’s on him. Sean—none of us are perfect. But no one—not Colton, not Paxton—can come between us. I will always love you.”

  He pulled her close and closed his eyes.

  “I want so much to go back to the way things were last week. Before this. I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know what, Sean? Talk to me.”

  He didn’t know if he could. “I guess I need time. I need … peace.”

  “Anything you need, I’m here.”

  He held her tight. He needed Lucy so much, but feared he was broken.

  “Hey,” she said, making him look at her. “I mean it. We’re going to get through this together.”

  He stared at her and saw the truth in her eyes. He slowly began to believe it. With Lucy, he could do anything. His heart was still heavy, but he felt it get just a little bit lighter.

  He kissed her. Held her lips to his for a long minute. Live big, Kane had said.

  All Sean wanted, right now, was his family.

  “I love you, Lucy Kincaid Rogan.”

  Acknowledgments

  Dear Reader,

  I have always wanted to be a writer, but it was a distant dream, interrupted by life—raising a family and working full-time, I figured I didn’t have the time to write. After my son was born in 2001, I had an epiphany: If I wanted to write, I needed to make the time. I gave up television for three years (my friends and family know I love TV!) and I wrote every night after the kids went to bed. I finished five books in two years, selling my fifth book, The Prey, which was published in January 2006.

  Most of my research for my early books came from reading. My research shelf overflowed with books on crimin
al psychology, forensics, police procedures, and true crime. I knew a few people who could help me with some of the details I couldn’t find in books, but mostly I made stuff up. And sometimes I got things wrong. There’s a phrase I heard that resonates with me: “You don’t know what you don’t know.” I try to keep that in mind when I write so I can research points where I might not even realize I got it wrong. If it’s plot-critical, I want it to be right.

  Another hurdle in research is making sure that it doesn’t show. I only want enough information on the page to make the story work without halting the pace to explain too many details. There’s nothing that irritates me more than when I’m reading a thriller and the story just stops to explain a minute forensic detail for five pages. Sometimes I want to share all the fascinating things I’ve learned when I toured the morgue or interviewed a pilot or participated in SWAT training, and I have to rein myself in and remember to only put enough on the page to keep the story believable. I work on it in each and every book, to make sure I keep that balance. Sometimes I fail, but I think mostly I succeed. And sometimes, I rely on my readers’ willing suspension of disbelief.

  I have been so blessed over the nearly fifteen years I’ve been published to have cultivated an extensive group of experts who help me learn what I don’t know. Doctors, nurses, cops, FBI agents, a SWAT commander, lawyers, firefighters, accountants, and more. Sometimes I intentionally strain plausibility in order to serve the story—but because of the selfless help of others, I’m able to get things mostly right, which hopefully makes your reading experience that much more enjoyable.

  I’ve acknowledged author Robin Burcell, a retired police officer and forensic artist, several times in the past. Robin is one of the most selfless writers I know and always willing to help her fellow writers with details. One of the best things about having a former cop as a writer is that Robin understands that you can’t put in every detail about investigating a crime. She understands how we need to focus on the core story and details complement that story. In Cold as Ice, Robin went above and beyond in helping me get my opening right—or at least believable. When Sean is arrested, I needed to make sure that those details were accurate. That they could arrest him, how they would arrest the husband of a law enforcement officer, what courtesies might be extended. We exchanged more than a dozen emails going over this one chapter, and I am forever grateful. If I tweaked a detail to serve the story, that’s on me.