In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite), page 7
If so, that changed things, changed the way he’d need to go about clearing himself.
“What did Brooks accuse Wade of?” he asked.
She crossed her arms, wincing a little, then rubbed them as if she were cold. Impossible in this heat. He hated seeing her uncertainty. Hated knowing she wasn’t sure if she could trust him.
Hated knowing she had started to wonder if her husband had done something less than honorable.
“No games, Abby. Tell me.”
She dropped her arms. “Brooks didn’t accuse him of anything. He implied.”
“How?”
“He had our financial records investigated, our friends. Everything.”
“Did you ask him why?”
“He told me it was routine in cases like this.” She said it firmly, but he heard the tears that threatened. “Whatever ‘cases like this’ meant. But I went along with him, not insisting that I see my husband’s body, like some mousy little housewife who wanted the big strong men to take care of her.”
He wanted to smile at that, but didn’t. She wasn’t mousy and he recognized the sarcasm in her tone. “But you didn’t tell Brooks what Wade said.”
“No.”
“That took strength, Abby. A lot of it.”
“I saw him, you know,” she said in a voice so low he had to strain to understand.
“Saw who?”
“Wade.” She looked at the ground.
Damn. “You said Brooks didn’t want you to see him.”
She nodded, rubbing at her eyes.
God, he hoped she wasn’t crying, because if she was, he was about to make it all worse. But he had to know.
“What did he—?”
“Look like?” She jerked her face up to him. Moisture sparkled on her lashes. “Dead. He looked dead. And wrong. They hurt him.” She took a breath, swiped at a tear that escaped. “I was terrified. I had reached the point where I thought it was all lies. I didn’t know what to believe—if it was even him. I asked the funeral director to leave me alone with the casket. I lifted the lid and pulled up Wade’s pant leg.” Her voice broke.
“Why?” he asked.
She bit her lip, took a breath, and continued. “He had a little scar on his right calf. I”— her voice was a mere whisper—“touched it. We used to joke that it looked like a…valentine.”
She looked so stricken, so alone. He knew about the scar. He’d seen it. Tradecraft was great, but no way in hell would anyone have remembered to fake that tiny scar—not for a closed casket funeral. No, that confirmed it. Wade was dead.
And it confirmed what he already knew. Abby Price was one damn tough lady.
All JP could do now was figure out how Wade’s death played into the betrayal that had left him on the run.
“I’m sorry, Abby. I really am.” Sorry for her pain, sorry for the whole damn fucking mess. “He was a good friend.” Who may not have traded his white hat for black, after all… Jesus.
She looked up at him, her gaze plaintive. “Tell me the truth. Did he do anything wrong?”
The question hung between them. JP wanted to make it easier for her. He didn’t want to lie. But he didn’t know anything for sure anymore, and a possible lie was all he could manage. “Not Wade.” The same words he’d used to try to convince himself when he’d first found himself out in the cold.
She rubbed her tears away with a quick swipe of her fingers. She needed reassurance. Needed to have faith in her late husband if she was going to be of any help to JP. So he played the game, even though he’d told her he wouldn’t. But there was this new possibility that he could be wrong about his friend’s betrayal. He’d keep an open mind. He wanted the truth, whatever it may be.
“Wade was a good man,” he assured her. Even though Wade hadn’t told her the truth about himself. But in that lack of knowledge, in Abby’s faith in her husband—however shaken it may be—he might find the answers. Without telling her the worst. Without the need for her to know the whole truth about what they did for a living.
“Wade wouldn’t do anything wrong. He couldn’t.” Her voice wobbled the tiniest bit. Enough to betray her uncertainty.
“If I’m going to prove he was a hero, Abby, I have to know everything you know. You must answer my questions.”
“And you have to answer mine,” she returned, her voice firm. No wilting flower, no mousy housewife. She hadn’t known what to do, but she’d shown courage.
“What is it you want to know?”
“I know you’re hiding from Brooks, from the Agency. Do they think you did something wrong, too?”
Asked so directly, so honestly, JP faltered. God, how he hated lying to her, but there was no choice.
“You said no games,” she reminded. “You promised.”
“They think I…was a bit loose with some CIA secrets.” There, that sounded reasonable, and was far enough away from what happened that she would never know.
“A bit loose with what secrets?”
“I don’t think revealing the secrets now would help prove that I wasn’t guilty then, do you?” He smiled.
“Then that must be what they thought Wade did,” she said, as if finally understanding. “Betray secrets.”
He wouldn’t acknowledge or deny. Couldn’t—wouldn’t—keep lying to her.
“You believed it, didn’t you?” she asked.
“I didn’t know he was dead.” He hoped she wouldn’t see the total disconnect.
“Did anyone else die?”
She was boxing him into a corner. “As I said, I’ve been out of touch.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied him.
“Mommy, Petunia is coming,” Cole said from behind, startling them both.
Damn. He’d totally forgotten about the kid…and the damn bull.
“Throw the rest of the carrots on the ground and go on into the barn,” Abby said, calling to her son.
The big bull trotted closer as Cole ran ahead of them as they walked toward the barn.
She stopped JP with a touch to his arm. “You want to find something you think Wade had,” she said, “but Brooks searched the house, the entire property, the bank accounts, the safety deposit box. Everything.”
As they walked, something shiny flashed in the trees between the barn and her house. He slowed to stare at it.
“What do you see?” she asked, her gaze following his.
JP kept his gaze fixed on the trees. “Let’s get inside the barn.”
Petunia bellowed, the sound echoing around them. Buck pranced and snorted as the black bull bent to crunch on the carrots Cole had thrown for him.
JP hurried Abby back into the barn. The interior smelled hot but the darkness felt cool compared to the outside heat. Cole saw the calico cat and followed her up a bale of hay.
“Do you think someone’s watching us?” she asked.
A bad feeling was niggling in his gut. He’d let his guard down when he knew Brooks would still be around. “I need to go.”
“You can’t get away without help. Brooks could be out there right now.”
He smiled, covering his concern. “Don’t worry, Abby. It’ll be okay.”
“Nothing’s okay!” Her flare of anger caught him by surprise. “Nothing!”
He reached out and touched her arm. “Ab—”
“Don’t!” She pushed his hand away. “Do not patronize me,” she said in a near whisper. “Wade may not have told me anything, but I know.” She took a shaky breath. “I saw him. Saw what they did to him.”
JP pulled his hand back from the smooth warmth of her arm. He hadn’t meant to sound patronizing, just reassuring. He knew too well what could happen to a man. Much better than she. He’d seen much worse than what had apparently happened to Wade.
But the rush of anger in Abby’s eyes intrigued JP, tempted him into forbidden territory. Did it mean she cared what happened to him? Or was it simply human concern, a caring person’s concern for the safety of another?
“I can get away,” he said simply.
“How?” she shot at him.
Good God. How the hell had Wade kept things from her? How had the man hidden his secrets from a woman with her fire, determination, and persistence?
“Sorry. Trade secrets,” he replied.
“Like the trade secret that had you spending the night with Petunia?”
He smiled again, knowing it pushed her anger, using that anger to deflect any of the softer feelings that crept into his heart when he was around her. He tried to think of a comeback that would take the edge off the conversation.
But before he could think of anything, she demanded in a low voice, “Who’ll save you next time?”
It won’t be you, Abby.
He had to pull back, had to put some perspective on the situation. He had the uneasy feeling that she could see too much of what he felt. But then, he could just be projecting his own insanity onto her. The feelings she evoked in him were clearly not reciprocated. Common decency wouldn’t be, either, if she ever found out the truth about the life he’d led.
“Thanks for helping me,” he said.
“That’s it?” she asked, the bite of anger still in her words. “Nothing more?”
“There is nothing more.” There couldn’t be.
“I want answers.”
“Ask Brooks.”
Her harsh laughter made Cole look toward them. When the little boy began playing with the cat again, she said. “No, you tell me.”
JP glanced at the kid and the cat sitting in a shaft of sunshine. A Norman Rockwell painting. Safe, secure. The kind of life he’d only seen from a distance since he’d left home. The kind of life Wade had tried to give her. And suddenly the kind of life he wanted again.
He was insane.
“I told you. I made a mistake and got into trouble.”
She didn’t nod, didn’t blink at his response. He was good at what he did, one of the best. This woman had no idea, but she expected him to continue his explanation.
“I thought Wade could help,” he said finally.
“And now?” she prompted.
“I’ll have to look somewhere else.”
“For what?”
For a traitor. Even if, despite his death, it was Wade. He nearly said it. Nearly.
“For the reason they’re after me.”
“You came here because Wade knew something you thought could help you. I want—” She paused, her face unreadable in the shadows of the barn. “I need to know what happened to him. To understand.”
“Abby—”
“Not national security secrets,” she broke in, holding up a hand. “Nothing like that. I need to know why he didn’t contact me again. Why he couldn’t tell me more, or let me help him.”
“He would never—”
“No,” she said in an angry whisper. “Don’t tell me what Wade would never do. I know exactly what he would never do. He would never involve me. Well, he did this time. He called me. He told me to expect you, to tell you something about springs. You obviously know what that means. Now, I want to know, too.”
“I’m sorry, Abby—”
“I’m the only one who can help you,” she said, a fierce light in her eyes, “and you’re the only one who can help me.”
“Mommy,” Cole said, looking out of the barn window. “That man is here.”
JP looked out through the barn door.
Three SUVs. Brooks. It had to be.
Gravel crunched beneath the SUV tires as they pulled up in front of the barn.
“If they find me here, it won’t go well for you,” he said.
“They won’t find you,” she replied. “Cole, stay up there with Muffin until I come back inside. Remember, Mr. John is our big secret.”
She grabbed JP’s arm and ran out the back of the barn and into the corral. Pushing him, she said, “Get in the trough. Cover up with hay. Then don’t move.”
He wasn’t about to argue. He got in and spread the hay she’d removed a short while ago back onto his legs. She ran back in and got more, dumping it on him before moving away.
Then she opened the corral gate and said something inaudible. The big black beast stomped the ground as she waved her arms from just inside the gate. Before JP could react and distract the bull, she was running, the animal trotting behind.
Breath caught in his chest, he watched her through a veil of hay as she climbed up and over the metal railing to get out of the corral. The bull stopped inside and bent his head to the hay she’d dropped. Then she closed the corral gate, trapping him with the animal.
…
Abby tried to control her rapid breathing as she ran back inside the barn after making sure JP couldn’t be seen.
“Come on, honey,” she said to Cole. “Let’s say hello.”
“Is Mr. John still a secret?”
“Yes, he is. Don’t forget.”
“’Kay,” he replied as they walked outside.
Brooks pulled his black SUV in front of the barn. Two dark green vehicles drove up behind him.
“Abby,” he greeted, getting out. Sunlight reflected off his silver aviators.
“Why are you back?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady and calm.
“Got a report that someone ran off your road last night and abandoned a car.”
“That’s what the sheriff’s department told us,” she said.
“You didn’t see anything?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He removed his sunglasses. “You said your car got stuck last night.”
“I told you that. Remember?”
He looked at her with that enigmatic expression she’d grown to hate. And fear.
“Mind if we look around?”
“Why would you want to?”
“It’s a good size place. Someone could be hiding out in the barn, or in Wade’s shop, or in one of the pastures.”
“There have been a lot of people here today. I think someone would have noticed.”
“This man’s an expert. You’d never see him. Never know he was here.”
“What man?” Abby asked, wondering if he’d deliberately let that slip, or if he hadn’t meant to say it.
“As I told you, some of Wade’s friends might come looking for him,” Brooks replied.
Behind him, five men stepped out of the SUVs. Abby saw the barely perceptible nod Brooks gave them. Two of the men moved toward the pastures.
“I really don’t think this is necessary—”
“Believe me, Abby, it is. This man is dangerous.”
“I don’t understand. There’s no reason for anyone to come looking for Wade so long after his death, let alone someone who could be dangerous.”
“This man is more than dangerous. He needs to be stopped.”
“Is he one of your officers?”
“He was,” Brooks replied, scanning the barnyard. “We’ve been tracking him for over a year.”
“Since Wade died?” she asked, trying to mask her surprise at Brooks’s revelation.
Brooks’s gaze shot to her. “Yes.”
“What did he have to do with Wade?” She hoped he couldn’t see through her pretense.
Brooks paused, staring down at her as if deciding what to say or whether to answer at all. “They were partners for years. Worked together. Wade recruited him.”
Partners? If that was true, why hadn’t JP told her?
Because he’d lied.
“Start with the barn,” Brooks said to the three men who didn’t go toward the pastures.
“No!”
The men spun around at her cry. She had to stay calm. Had to think. “We have a mother cat and kittens. Don’t disturb—”
“We’re not here to hurt kittens, Abby,” Brooks replied with exaggerated patience.
“Let me show you where they are,” she said, praying she wasn’t making everything worse.
She led the way inside, holding Cole’s hand, and pointed. “Up there, behind those bales.”
“Be careful,” Brooks ordered the men.
One man climbed onto the bales, another began a methodical search of the stalls. The third moved toward the back, where the corral was.
“Wait!” Abby said before she could stop herself.
“What is it now?” Brooks asked.
“He needs to be careful of the bull.”
“Petunia is a bad boy,” Cole said, climbing back up toward the kittens.
“He’s in the corral,” she said. “Tell your man to be careful.”
Brooks’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded and began walking toward the back. Abby followed.
“Holy shit!” the officer outside said. “Get a look at that.”
Petunia lifted his head from the hay she’d thrown on the ground, turning his massive neck in their direction.
“What the hell happened to him?” the officer asked.
“He got caught in a barbed wire fence.”
“That must hurt like a—” He cut himself off when he saw Brooks’s admonishing glance. “Hurt a lot.” He walked up to the pen and rested his arms across the top rail, at shoulder height.
“I wouldn’t—” she began.
Petunia spun, and ran at the metal rails, snorting. The officer jumped back just as the bull hit the rails with his shoulder. The contact sent a clanging sound reverberating through the barn.
“Let him out into the pasture,” Brooks ordered.
“He’s more dangerous in the pasture than he is in here,” she said.
“She’s right,” the officer agreed. “He’d be able to chase us down out there.” He nodded his head at the corral. “Just keep him there, he’s doing our job for us. Nobody could move without that beast coming after ’em.”
Brooks looked around the pen. Petunia leaned into the corral rails. “Can he get through?”
“He never has,” she replied. “But he’s not usually around this many people.”
The bull bellowed. His call shook the air around them, echoing in the heat of the day.
“Help Adams search the barn,” Brooks said, gesturing toward the other officer. The man jogged back inside, relief evident on his face.
Abby didn’t dare look toward the trough. Instead, she walked into the barn. Brooks followed.
The agents continued their methodical search. The one who had checked the stalls came over to Brooks and pointed to Wade’s workshop. “We’re gonna search the building over there.”
