Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: To Honor and To Protect\Cornered\Untraceable (3 page)

“Why do you ask?” He ignored the calculating gleam in Thomas's quick smile. Drew could no more hold back that question than stop the next sunrise. With a nearly audible snap, a piece clicked into place. “She's the tipster.”

“Yes. And she's gone missing.”

“So ask her husband.” Drew's throat went dry and his palms went damp. Addi was fine. Had to be fine. He couldn't accept anything else where she was concerned.

“Well...” Thomas hesitated. “You haven't seen any of the news coverage on this?”

Drew shook his head. Knowing his emotional limits, he didn't do any more than scan the local headlines, and sometimes that was more bad news than he could handle.

“Craig Everett.” Thomas opened a file and showed him a picture of the man who'd been with Addi in the park. “He and Ms. Collins planned to marry at the end of the summer, but he's also gone missing.”

Planned?
“She's not married?” Had he missed an important chance to be with her? It was hard to think about that. He'd been so sure about what he'd seen. Maybe she'd been married and divorced before Everett came along.

“No marriage on record,” Thomas confirmed. “What we do know is that she turned over damning evidence and abruptly left town. She hasn't been seen anywhere in just over two weeks.”

It didn't make sense. Drew thought of the little boy, wondering if the kid belonged to Addison or Everett.

“The evidence Addison provided against Everett is excellent, but I think she knows more.”

“If the evidence is so great, why do you need more?”

Thomas sighed. “Because I was informed last night that Everett escaped during a transfer between facilities.”

Drew swore, unable to sit still any longer. He shifted in the chair, pushed a hand through his hair. “How'd you let that happen?”

“
I
didn't.” The director's voice went cold. “Reviewing everything we have, I've concluded Everett's connections are too good. I believe Addison can confirm my suspicions and help me plug what must be a leak on the government side.”

Better and better,
Drew thought, but he couldn't get the image of Addison, scared and on the run, out of his mind. “What did Everett do?”

“Based on this initial evidence, he's used his contacts among import-export businesses to start a sideline brokering deals for controlled software and hard intel on human assets in sensitive areas. We're not yet sure if it started as his idea or—”

“She had nothing to do with that.”

“You sound sure.”

“I am.” No matter how she'd moved on with her life, Addison wasn't a traitor. He could only imagine how angry she'd been to discover the secrets this Everett guy had been hiding.

“For the record, I agree with you.”

No surprise. Thomas would've done all the background research on everyone involved in what must be a fiasco from the government side. It wouldn't take much legwork to look at Addison's background and find her first near-miss marriage. He clenched his fist. Her fiancé would've heard all about her past without the hassle of gathering intel. “Why am I here?”

“As I said, she's gone missing, and I think you're just the man to find her.”

Would his past never stay buried? “I don't know anything about her anymore.”

“Which is precisely the kind of advantage I'm looking for. No one on my team has found a trace of her since her BMW wound up in a used car lot in Arizona.”

Just because she'd been south and east of San Francisco didn't mean she'd keep going that direction. “That leaves a lot of territory to cover. What about Everett?”

Thomas's expression clouded over. “Also off the radar right now. He could very well be searching for Ms. Collins, too, planning to buy her off or to silence her.”

Drew understood which option was more likely. Addison had integrity in spades.

“My hope,” Thomas continued, “is that you can find her first and bring her in. I can protect her.”

Drew felt a hot lick of panic. This couldn't be happening. “What do you expect me to do? What do I tell her?” He'd seen the fallen hero obituary in the scrapbook his father had created. He'd read the few letters Addison had written to his dad in the months following their interrupted wedding and his capture. “She thinks I'm dead.”

“I understand this is overwhelming,” Thomas said. “We have resources here. Why don't you consider yourself a consultant? Give me a direction, some idea where she might be hiding, and help guide the team I send out to find her.”

If Drew's gut instinct was right and Addison was heading to her home turf, Thomas's team wouldn't stand a chance. The woman he'd known, the woman he'd planned to marry, had always been ferociously independent and smart as a whip. If she was on the run and didn't want to be found, there was only one place she'd go. And if anyone cornered her there, she'd strike first and ask for identification later.

“No.” Resigned, Drew accepted his fate. He couldn't leave this to anyone else. Whether or not he was thrilled by the idea of seeing her again, he figured he was the only one with a chance of convincing her to come out of hiding. “I'll find her.”

“That's the best news I've had since they dumped this on my desk,” Thomas admitted.

“I'll need gear.”

“We have the best.”

“I'll need cash for a car and cell phone in addition to the travel expenses.”

Thomas pursed his lips. “Done.”

“I'll find Addison, but I can't promise to bring her in.” He cut off Thomas's automatic protest. “We both know she won't be safe until Everett and that leak are contained. She knows that, too. I'll monitor the news and do my best, but don't count on a quick resolution where she's concerned.”

“Agreed.” Thomas pressed a button on his phone. “My assistant will show you downstairs. Take whatever you need to get the job done.”

“Yes, sir.” If he thought about timelines and proximity, he'd lose it. Reminding himself life was a day-to-day effort, he focused on the first step: gearing up.

The T-shirt, warm-up pants and sneakers weren't going to hold up to what amounted to a manhunt through some difficult terrain.

Drew turned in his seat when the door opened and stood up as the receptionist returned. If he was right, if he still knew the woman at all, he'd soon be face-to-face with Addison. Surreal was a vast understatement. He couldn't decide if he should be terrified or ecstatic at the prospect. He supposed her reaction would help him decide.

Chapter Three

Thomas pushed his chair away from his desk and stood, restless and uncertain about what he'd just set in motion.

Not so long ago he'd been given a second chance and reunited with the only woman he'd ever loved. His personal success should give him hope for Drew and Addison, but he couldn't quite drum up that elusive emotion for this situation. Sending Drew to track down Addison could backfire. Not just for the two of them—three if he counted the little boy—but for the integrity of the operational mess he'd inherited.

It seemed more and more challenging lately to think of his Specialists as assets. They were all capable and strong people who, at the end of the day, were here as tools to be applied to specific purposes and operations. It was a particular trial when the people he assigned, like Drew, weren't even part of his elite program.

Time to hand over the reins.
He stared through his big office window, blind to the stunning view. A knock sounded at his door. “Come in,” he called without turning.

“I saw Bryant leave,” Deputy Director Emmett Holt said. “Did he agree to help?”

Thomas loosened his tie as he returned to his desk chair. There was no need to stand on formality with Holt, who understood all too well what was riding on this operation.

“He agreed.”

“But?” Holt sank into one of the visitors' chairs opposite Thomas. “You look like you've eaten bad fish.”

“I feel a bit like that, to tell the truth. This could backfire. In a big way.”

“Were there other options?”

Thomas drummed his fingers on the supple leather arm of his chair. “No.” The whole reason they'd brought Drew into this was because Addison had disappeared. Completely. “But it's a lot to ask.”

“He'll manage.”

Thomas met Holt's sharp gaze. “I meant her. Addison's running for her life, for her son's life, and we're sending out a ghost to find her. She has no idea what happened—only that he never made it to their wedding.”

“Then I stand corrected.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow. “He won't manage?”

“No.
She
will manage.”

It sounded like a magic-wand theory to Thomas's ears, and that was one theory everyone in his line of work always rejected. “He's not a trained Specialist.”

“Oh, so that's the problem.”

Thomas didn't like the half smile on Holt's face. “Explain.”

“You feel guilty for sending an unqualified civilian after a high-value asset.”

“That's not true.” Where the hell was this coming from? He and Holt had different management styles, but this series of irritating questions wasn't typical. “Bryant might be a civilian now, but he could step in and train our recruits on anything at a moment's notice.”

“So he's qualified.”

“More than.”

“Then I guess you're feeling guilty because we didn't have an equally qualified Specialist available?”

They both knew the roster and they both took great pride in the skills of the men and women on their team. “Why the hell are you being so difficult?”

“Because you need to ease up on yourself,” Holt said, his expression somber. “The woman and her kid are missing, Everett escaped with some damned sophisticated help and you just sent out the best option for everyone involved.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Thomas wasn't sure how else to interpret that tidy speech.

“If that's what you need, you're welcome.” Holt leaned forward. “We talked about it, looked at every asset before you brought Bryant in. He is the only choice for this mission.”

Thomas knew that was correct. Even logical.

“Personally,” Holt continued, “I believe he'll succeed, no matter how she reacts to seeing him again. He's resourceful. He'll bring her in or make sure we can.”

“You're right,” Thomas allowed, though he knew this decision would haunt him well into his retirement if it went wrong. He rubbed the palm of one hand with the opposite thumb. “I've never once forgotten that our Specialists are people. We demand more than we should—”

“But never more than we're willing to give ourselves,” Holt finished for him. “That philosophy—
your
philosophy—is at the heart of our entire program. Don't ever doubt it.”

“All right.” Thomas raised his hands, palms out. There had been a time, not too long ago, when Thomas had doubted his philosophy and much more. He'd doubted Holt's loyalty to the Specialists and the nation at large. Been certain he'd made the wrong call naming Holt as the next director.

No longer. Holt had proved himself in the field and protected the Mission Recovery office during a complicated attack from one of Thomas's old enemies. Not only that, he'd recently become family by marrying Thomas's sister. “Thanks for the pep talk,” he said, the burden feeling a bit lighter. “It's the kid,” he added, finally articulating the real issue. He and Jo wanted to start a family soon, and although his wife was as independent and resourceful as Addison, Thomas knew how far he'd go if someone took aim at his wife or their children.

“I figured,” Holt said with a sympathetic nod.

“Cecelia is expecting you and Jo to join the family for July Fourth weekend.”

“We're looking forward to it,” Thomas said, more relieved than he should be about the change of topic. “Jo is making noise about getting a boat of our own when I retire.”

“Want me to keep an eye out for you?”

“A casual eye.” He recognized Holt's method of shifting the topic to something more normal. “But I don't want her to know I'm looking yet.”

“Lucky for you, I can keep a secret,” Holt said, heading for the doorway.

“I'm well aware.” Thomas smiled as Holt walked out, the guilt of Addison and Drew's situation muted. For now.

He'd needed the reminder that Holt provided. If Drew had given the first sign that he'd cave under the pressure of the request, Thomas would've found another way to track down Addison.

As it was, he was back to hoping the reunion, although certain to be awkward and emotional, would result in capturing the traitorous Everett and the root of his network so Addison and her son could return to life without fear of retribution.

Chapter Four

Louisiana
bayou
Saturday, July 5, 7:35 p.m.

In the fading light of another warm summer day, Addison came outside with two bowls of ice cream. Sitting next to Andy on the top step of the porch, she handed him one.

“We had ice cream last night.”

“It's summer,” Addison said with a smile. “And you've played hard all day. Besides, it won't keep forever.” Her friend Nico, father of Bernadette, her best childhood friend, had given her permission to stay here in his mother's old place. He'd brought them out by boat and had delivered more supplies yesterday. Although she appreciated what the weather-worn shack provided, she didn't trust the ancient freezer on the back porch.

Andy didn't waste time arguing over the bonus treat and he dug in with enthusiasm.

As dark crept in from the edges of the swamp, the insects ramped up with an evening chorus that rose and fell with the soft breeze. In the tall marsh grass across the water, fireflies took flight. “Look.” She pointed toward the soft twinkling.

“Can I catch some? Nico told me kids here use them as night-lights.”

“Not tonight.” She was tired and wary despite being as alone as a person could be out here. Other than Nico's, she hadn't even heard another boat in the area for days, yet she felt edgy as if they were being watched. They'd been here for two weeks, and according to the news, Craig continued to evade authorities as the story of his illegal dealings came out in dribs and drabs. “I did that a few times when I was your age,” she said to her son. “Even once during a campout right here.”

“Really?” His eyes were wide.

“Mmm-hmm. Mama Leonie, Nico's mom, lived out here more than in town. Nico's daughter was my best friend and we used to come here every chance we got. There was only one room then.”

“No bedroom?”

Addison shook her head. “She didn't want one.”

“Where did she sleep?”

“Outside on the back porch.” Addison looked around once more, picturing it as it had been. “I always thought it was the best tree house.”

“But it's not
in
the tree. I think we should call it a swamp fort.” Andy twisted around and then leaned forward to peer through the slatted porch to the water below. “I like this part hanging over the water.”

“It keeps the rooms cooler.”

“Huh.”

Addison smiled to herself. The conversation relaxed her. Feeling watched was simply paranoia, which wasn't unexpected. Nico had assured her no one came out this way much since Leonie's death a few years back. He promised that she and Andy would be safe in the old Voodoo Queen's place. Few people knew this place was still habitable. More important, only two people knew that Addison knew about it.

“This is a real adventure, Mom.” Andy scooped up another big bite of ice cream. “I saw a frog out there.” He pointed with his spoon toward the edge of the water. “And an alligator down that way.” The spoon moved down the shore, away from the house.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, his mouth full and a sticky stain of chocolate bracketing its corners. “Nico showed me how to spot 'em.”

“Did he?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He's the expert.” Nico knew these swamps inside and out and stayed busy as a tour guide. When she'd knocked on his door in the middle of the night two weeks ago, he hadn't batted an eye at her request for help. Stomping into his boots, he'd taken her keys and driven her out to the edge of the swamp without asking any uncomfortable questions. After promising he wouldn't mention her arrival to anyone, he'd loaded two boats, tied them together and guided her out here. Once they'd unloaded and he was satisfied she had key supplies, he'd left her one boat and returned to his dock with the other.

She supposed other people might've felt obligated to help because she'd sent money back to help with Mama Leonie's health care and final expenses. But Nico lived by a different philosophy. You took care of your own, no matter how much time or silence passed between visits. That had shown through when he'd returned with a boatload of supplies at midday, and he'd clearly spent some important time with Andy while she'd put things away in the house.

Now they had a stock of wood and charcoal, a generator and fuel to keep the small luxuries like the freezer, the ancient water heater and the two lightbulbs inside the shack going. They couldn't stay here indefinitely, but they could certainly stay through the summer and longer if she hadn't figured out the next step by then.

“Mom, the swamp is kinda creepy at night.”

She felt herself smiling. “In a good way?”

“Yeah!

“Nico told me his mom knew everything about the swamp.”

“She sure did. And she loved to teach anyone who'd listen. She treated me like a granddaughter. I learned her secret recipe for pancakes when I turned ten.”

Andy looked up at her. “Would she have been my grandma, too?”

“You better believe it. The two of you would've been best friends.” She rubbed her hand across his small shoulders. “Leonie was very special. I loved coming out here to see her.”

“This was your adventure place?”

Addison nodded. “Yes. And it's good to be back.” More than she'd expected, really. It felt like home, even though she wasn't anywhere near the farm where she'd grown up in Mississippi.

“I think it's better than SeaWorld!”

“Just don't try and pet a gator.” They shared a quiet laugh. “Tomorrow we can start exploring. I can show you what's—”

“Safe,” Andy interrupted with a put-upon sigh. “You said we wouldn't have to be together the whole time on this adventure.”

“I said we wouldn't have to be in the car the whole time. And you've been playing on your own, right?”

“Right.”

“I just want to be sure you know what to do or where to go if you come across something dangerous.” Or someone.

Craig wouldn't have the first idea of how to find this place, shouldn't even know about it, but she wanted to be sure Andy knew how to find Nico in case they were somehow injured or separated.

“That doesn't sound like an adventure.”

“Oh, it will be.”

Water splashed nearby. Andy turned to her with wide eyes. “Was that a gator?”

“Probably not. Gators slide into the water and most of the time they hardly make a sound or even a ripple.” A small exaggeration, but worth the resulting expression of wonder on his face. “A sound like that's usually a fish or frog.” Not a person, she reminded herself. People who slipped or splashed made even more noise.

“Nico taught you that, didn't he?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She held out her empty bowl, let him stack his on top. “Take those inside to the sink, please.”

“Do I have to wash 'em?”

“No, sweetie. I'll do it after bedtime.”

She listened to his small footsteps, waited for the inevitable noise as the bowls and spoons landed with a clatter in the old porcelain sink. He rushed back out to join her a moment later, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

“About bedtime...”

She smiled into his serious face. “Yes?”

“It's summer, so there isn't such thing as a school night.”

“I noticed.”

“And we're on an adventure.”

“We are.” She knew where he was headed, but she waited for him to say what was on his mind.

“Could I not have a bedtime?”

She waited. This was the way they did things. He had to ask nicely even when he delivered sound reasons.

“Please,” he added quickly with a winning smile.

“You still have a lot of growing to do,” she pointed out. “Sleep is important for growing.” Just after Christmas she'd bought him new tennis shoes, only to have him grow out of them within a few days. “Enough sleep,” she amended, anticipating his next argument.

His face fell but only for a moment. “There were nights last summer that didn't have bedtime and we were at home.”

“True.” She drilled her finger at his belly, making him squeal and jump back. “There will be nights like that on our adventure, too.”

“It's not even all the way dark yet.”

“That doesn't mean it isn't late.” And her son rose early, ready and eager for every day. She was more than a little grateful when she realized how well Nico had updated the place through the years. She wouldn't have to settle for instant coffee.

She patted the top step. “Come sit with me and we'll count the first stars.”

Andy dropped down beside her, just a little sulky with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists.

“You can't see the stars if you're looking at the water.”

He dutifully looked up, his lower lip poking out like a shelf. “Wow. There's lots up there already.” Interested now, he forgot to pout.

They counted more than twenty as the sky transformed into an inky purple above the tall cypress trees. When she heard him yawn, she nudged him back inside the “swamp fort.” Leaning against the doorway, she kept her weary little man on task as he chattered through the bedtime rituals.

The little things like pajamas and brushing teeth felt so normal even in Mama Leonie's rambling little shack. “Which one will it be tonight?” She hefted the backpack full of comics onto the narrow bed near his feet.

His eyebrows drew together as he considered. “Will you tell me more about Mama Leonie?”

Surprised, she agreed. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Why did she live out here all alone?”

Addison gathered her thoughts, drew hard on her memory to recall the tales. She didn't want to scare Andy with voodoo stories, but she didn't want to paint Leonie as anything other than the wonderful woman she'd been.

“Nico's mama didn't live out here alone all the time. She raised Nico and his brothers and sisters closer to town.”

Andy stared at the little room. “Because the swamp fort was too small?”

“Partly.”

“Why not just make it bigger?”

“They already had a bigger house. Maybe I'll take you by it one day.” Addison settled on the edge of the bed while Andy squished himself and his pillow into a comfortable position. Going through the familiar motions soothed her. “But she always had this place for herself.”

“So it was her adventure place.”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose you're right. Mama Leonie came out here to meet with people who needed things. She practiced a religion called voodoo.”

“She turned people into zombies?” Andy's eyes went wide as saucers but with more excitement than fear. Addison hoped it would always be that way, the opportunity for discovery outweighing potential distress.

“Of course not. She was smart and kind and full of compassion for people. She was more like a doctor or therapist.”

“But voodoo has zombies.”

“Comic books have voodoo zombies.” Addison wondered if she needed to rein him in a bit. “In real life, voodoo isn't nearly so creepy.” She walked her fingers over his foot and up his leg and tickled him behind the knee. He giggled and squirmed out of reach. “It's complicated but interesting, and the people around her counted on Leonie like they would a doctor or therapist.” She stood and managed to kiss his forehead before he could protest. “Now get some sleep.”

“Like a zombie?”

“If it helps you grow,” she said with a laugh.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“I'll put my sleeping bag in here with you. After I take care of the dishes.”

“And your quiet time.”

That habit was one definite success in her parenting career. As soon as Andy had been old enough to understand, she'd taught him to appreciate the quiet time she needed in the evenings. “That's right. Now quit stalling and go to sleep.”

“Did Mama Leonie ever do voodoo on you?” Andy asked before she could get out the door.

“Maybe I'll tell you that story tomorrow night.”

“Ah, come on.”

“Stalling. Love you, bear.”

“Love you, too,” he muttered, clearly resigned to losing the battle for more of a story.

She left the door cracked, the same way she did at home. It was a small compromise for him, but an added measure of security for her under these new circumstances.

At home during quiet time she would've heated water for tea and pulled out some reading for work or pleasure. Here, hot tea meant lighting the wood-burning stove or the grill outside. On such a sultry evening, it didn't feel like a good idea to fill the kitchen with more heat. And she hesitated to start a fire in the grill at this hour.

Among the supplies Nico had delivered was a jug of homemade wine. She poured some into one of the mason jars that served as drink ware and carefully sipped. The sweet, light taste was a pleasant surprise and she bravely sipped a second time.

She washed and dried the dishes, stacking them back with the others on the open corner shelves near the small table. As a youngster she'd often been entrusted with this chore and had used a chair instead of a stepstool to get the job done.

The memories flooded through her, warm and comfortable, and for a fleeting moment she could almost hear the lilting voices filling the room with chatter and laughter. There had been good times here, each of them precious to her.

The creative “architecture” in the bayous was the polar opposite of the sleek designer spaces she'd left behind, and Addison found her fondness for this little shack and rugged natural surroundings hadn't changed. She'd learned early, from her own humble beginnings, that the value wasn't in the furnishings of a place, but the people who filled it.

Mama Leonie and her family by blood and choice had filled this place with love, encouragement and hope.
Still filled it,
Addison thought as a breeze ruffled the curtains at the window over the sink. For the first time since leaving the West Coast, she felt a sliver of doubt about running here. She didn't want to ruin the healthy vibe or cause any trouble for Nico and his family. The locals still revered this place because of all the good Leonie had done for them, but Craig wouldn't care about any of that. If he found her, he'd have no respect for the history and simply level whatever stood between him and her.