Harlequin Intrigue June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: To Honor and To Protect\Cornered\Untraceable (4 page)

Too bad he'd never understand the biggest gap was full of intangibles, not physical obstacles.

“Mama Leonie, if you can hear me,” Addison whispered, “I don't want to bring you trouble. There was nowhere else to go.” Truly. Nowhere else Craig didn't know about. She looked down, twisting the engagement ring on her finger. What a fool she'd been to share so much of her life, of herself, with a man capable of such crimes. Why hadn't she seen through him? “I'm sorry if trouble follows me,” she murmured into the silence. “Any help you can send would be appreciated.”

She took off the ring and stuffed it in her pocket, scowling at the pale indentation left behind on her finger. The mark would fade and, with the bright days of summer, the pale line would soon fill in with healthy color. She'd taken a stand, done the right thing, and she had to trust the authorities to deal with Craig the right way. Soon.

Though her specialty was corporate law, she understood Craig and his legal defense team would make the most of every loophole available. Knowing the system too well to trust it blindly, she'd taken that final precaution and had mailed extra information on to a neutral party.

Addison paused at the cracked door, hearing Andy's steady breathing. They were out of harm's way.
Safe.
She repeated the word as she carried her glass of wine to the hammock on the back porch, screened in thanks to Nico's hard work.

Letting the hammock swing her gently, she reviewed every detail of her discovery, her report and her escape, looking for missteps, for anything Craig might twist to his advantage.

He could drag her into it by association, but she'd never had anything to do with his dealings. Although her firm hadn't balked at her request for six weeks off, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was unemployed. Her firm wouldn't tolerate the bad publicity of having her name dragged through the mud because she'd been idiot enough to nearly marry a traitor. Smart women weren't supposed to fall for the wolf in sheep's clothing. Her only saving grace was she'd found out before exchanging vows, but that wouldn't be enough to save her job.

She tipped back more of the wine, draining the glass, considering another glass. To pour or not to pour? became the most pertinent question. She used a toe to push off and send the hammock rocking again while she made up her mind.

It was so peaceful out here, the darkness so deep and quiet. She'd loved the West Coast city life, loved the challenges and perks of a high-powered, well-paying job. Being a single parent of an active, intelligent son had ups and downs, but at the end of every day, there was unconditional love. Everything about that life, except her son, was over. Where did that leave her? Where did she
want
to go next?

Money wasn't a big, immediate problem. Having been raised on next to nothing, she'd invested well and saved more through the years. Only Bernadette, as the executor of Addison's will and potential guardian for Andy, had access to those accounts.

She rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, wishing once more that there had been a way to warn Bernadette of the oncoming storm. But that kind of move would've been dangerous. During her relationship with Craig, she'd mentioned a few of their young and stupid antics in New Orleans, and he'd taken care of Andy six months ago when she and Bernadette had spent a girls' weekend in Tahoe.

Did fools come any bigger than she'd been with Craig?

Rolling to her feet, Addison headed back inside with her mason jar. She'd done all she could, taken every precaution, including running here, the safest place she knew. There was nothing left to do but wait it out. She had nearly six weeks left before school started. Out here, with only Nico as a contact, surely that would be enough time for her to know how much farther she'd have to run to provide Andy with as normal a life as possible.

Walking inside, she closed the door and checked the load on the shotgun. It had felt odd in her hands at first, but after a few hours of practice, shooting at stationary targets and then moving ones, her hands and body remembered the routine.

Carrying the shotgun with her, she unrolled her sleeping bag on the kitchen side of the narrow bedroom doorway. Settling on top of the thick layers of fabric for the remainder of the night, Addison listened to the soft hum of the refrigerator. It seemed to underscore the gentle, content sounds of her son sleeping on the cot in the corner on the other side of the door.

Bugs continued whirring and chirping outside, and she heard the occasional splash from fish, frog or turtle beneath the stilted house. They were safe. Craig couldn't find them here. If he searched anywhere, he was more likely to start with the small plot of land in Mississippi that still held her name on the title. It was on public record, which she couldn't change now. Although he knew she'd loved visiting New Orleans, she'd never told him anything about her dirt-stained summers out here in the bayou.

Nico had promised to keep her presence here a secret as well as keep her informed of any suspicious strangers who might appear and ask questions. She had the radio, and maybe in a week or two she'd risk a trip into town to scour the internet for any warning signs and check in with Professor Hastings.

Addison discarded the idea immediately. Any contact with her friend and mentor earlier than planned would put her “insurance policy” in jeopardy. No one could know she'd sent him backup files of Craig's treacherous dealings as well as more incriminating evidence. She thought of all the names she didn't know on his contact lists, the lists she'd downloaded from his phone and computer before sending them anonymously to the FBI.

With any luck, they would keep that as an ace up their sleeve, the secret weapon he wouldn't be prepared to explain away in court. Combined with what she'd sent to Professor Hastings, Craig would never be free long enough to cause trouble for her or Andy. As long as they caught him.

As she drifted off to sleep, one hand on the stock of the shotgun, she almost believed it.

Minutes or hours later, Addison woke with a start. It was tricky, listening past the blood thudding in her ears, to figure out what had startled her. The refrigerator was quiet and she heard the creak of wind in the trees.

Not the wind, she realized, as the curtains over the sink were still. She strained for another clue, telling herself it was just another overreaction to new surroundings.

This time the quiet splash of water under the house was followed immediately by the soft rasp of a boat being pulled onto the grasses that lined the shore. Damn it all to hell. Someone had found her.

Immediate worry for Nico flashed through her. Guilt pricked her conscience. Had they hurt him to get a lead on her direction? Since Leonie's death, there had been no reason to head into this part of the swamp. Many of the locals believed she haunted the place, and they preferred to avoid even benevolent ghosts.

Addison gripped the shotgun and sat up without making a sound. It might very well be someone familiar with the shack and in need of shelter. If they'd noticed the generator was going, it made sense to stop and ask for help, but Addison prepared to shoot first and ask questions later.

For several long moments nothing more than typical night swamp sounds reached her. Maybe whoever had been in the boat just needed to sleep off a wrong turn. It happened, and hospitality was part of the odd society out here. If they stayed down there with the boat, they wouldn't have any trouble from her.

She'd just relaxed her hold on the gun when she caught the unmistakable creaking tread of the third step in the string leading to the porch. Addison tried to breathe, telling herself Craig wouldn't come by night and sure as hell wouldn't come to a place so rural without vocalizing his discomfort in the process.

But that had been the Craig she'd known—thought she'd known—not the greedy bastard who'd brokered terrible deals that ended with dead US citizens.

She listened, her palms going damp as whoever was outside climbed closer to the porch. Part of her wanted to run, to grab Andy and bolt through the back, but she'd only heard one person. She could take one person.

“Addison?”

The inquiry, delivered in a low whisper, only revealed that the speaker was male. Nico would've announced himself already, knowing she was armed and prepared to defend herself.

So who else out here could possibly know her name?

The intruder made no secret of his approach now. He leaned close to the window. “Addison? Are you in there?”

Without a porch light, the intruder's identity was impossible to make out, but he was nearly at the door.

“Hello?” The voice, a little stronger, sounded familiar. “Addi?”

Addison's heart clutched. She knew that voice, and only one man had ever called her by that nickname. Drew Bryant, her long-dead fiancé.

She shook her head. Clearly she'd let the stress and worry get to her. Drew wasn't here, wasn't even alive. This was probably just a vivid dream induced by Andy's talk of zombies. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, urging her brain to wake up.

The screen-door hinges squealed and the handle of the main door turned.
A dream,
she thought,
it has to be a dream.
No one but Nico knew she was here. As the door eased open, Addison leveled the shotgun at the man casting shadows across the weak moonlight spilling through the door.

“Addi, it's me, Drew. I'm here to help.”

Wake up!

Addison fired. The loud report deafened her to the splintering wood as the buckshot pelted the front door. The reactions of the stranger in front of her were like a bad mime, first ducking behind the door, then rushing forward and taking the gun before she could fire again.

“It's
me
,” he said, his voice lost in the ringing in her ears.

The single lightbulb came on and she covered her mouth, barely smothering the scream lodged in her chest. “No.
No.
” This wasn't possible. It was a cruel twist of her overwrought imagination. She pushed to her feet, away from the man with Drew's face. Any second now she'd wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Mommy?” It was her son's tiny voice that ripped through her confusion and brought her back to her senses. She had to protect Andy at all costs.

“I'm here, Andy.” She couldn't decide. Comfort her son or confront the man in front of her.

“Take care of him.” The man carefully leaned the gun against the wall closest to her. “Then I'll explain and you can shoot me if you want to.”

It was such a Drew thing to say that she followed her instincts and tended to Andy.

“Why did the gun go off? Are we in trouble?”

“Someone startled me, that's all.” She ushered her boy back into bed and pulled the covers up tight. “It's late. Go back to sleep.”

“Who is that?” He rubbed his eyes.

“An unexpected friend.” It was a simpler answer than explaining her possible hallucinations. “He doesn't want to hurt us.” Apparitions and hallucinations didn't have enough substance to hurt anyone. She hoped. Whoever—whatever—was out there, he'd taken the gun from her all too easily. “He startled me and I fired the gun, that's all.”

“I'm scared.”

“That's understandable,” she said with more calm than she felt with her heart pounding. “But I won't let anything bad happen. In the morning I'll tell you the whole story.” Assuming she'd know the story by then. At least it gave her a bit of time to think of something logical.

They both gave the doorway a look when they heard the scrape of a chair across the wood floor.

“Promise?”

She pressed a kiss to his brow and wrapped him in a big hug. “I promise.” Holding her son in her arms and smelling the sweet scent of his hair, she knew this wasn't a bizarre, unbelievable nightmare. The man in the kitchen might really be Drew. She tensed. If so, he owed her a detailed explanation.

“You'll tell me if I need to find Nico, right?” he whispered into her ear.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She couldn't imagine sending her little boy into the swamp, even if they had talked about that very scenario as a safety precaution. “That's not necessary this time, especially not in the dark,” she said. “For now I need you to stay right here in this bed.” She leaned back, held his shoulders as she looked him in the eye. “Promise me.”

Andy promised, gave her another fierce hug and released her to deal with the man in the kitchen.

Chapter Five

Drew heard the low voices in the other room and felt like an ass for his clumsy entrance. His hands shook and not from dodging the shotgun blast. He trembled for her. If there'd ever been any doubt, he knew for sure that he'd lost everything in that POW camp. Years of his life, sure, but so much more.

Addison seemed to grow more beautiful every time he saw her. Remembering her radiance the day before their wedding had carried him through those dark days in unthinkable conditions. Seeing her playing with her new family in the park had filled him with jealousy and later—much later—with a weird sense of peace. She'd found her place, the happy life she'd dreamed of, even if it was without him. And just now, despite the messy hair, her face pale with shock, the shorts and oversize T-shirt concealing the sweet curves of her body, he looked at her and saw the prettiest woman on the planet.

Not that he could tell her, even if he hadn't mishandled this completely. She wasn't his. He'd let her go, let her keep believing he was dead. He should've stayed in the boat under the house and waited until morning to talk to her. But he'd needed to see her.

He told himself the confirmation was required for the job. Waiting until morning and protecting people who might not need it was a waste of time and resources. He pulled a chair away from the kitchen table, sat down and tried to believe the lie.

No sale. Director Casey might've pulled him out of Detroit, but the official case had nothing to do with why he'd come out here in the dark. He hadn't come here for Casey. He'd climbed those steps and disrupted Addison's night simply to satisfy his curiosity.

Behind him the door opened and he felt her staring at him.

She crossed the room, keeping as much distance as the small space allowed. “This is impossible. You're real.” She cleared her throat. “Alive, I mean.”

“I am.”

“Part of me expected you to vaporize while I talked with...” She tilted her head back toward the door. “With my son.”

So the boy he'd seen in the park was hers, not Everett's. He wasn't sure why that made him feel worse about all this. “Leaving you on our wedding day wasn't my idea.”

“And still you weren't there.” She held up her hands as if she could wave away the accusation. “Forget it. We can't change whatever took you away. I was grateful you left the note.”

He'd broken protocol with that, but he'd had to do something. It was their wedding day, for crying out loud. The note wouldn't have been nearly enough to earn her understanding, but it had been the only option.

“Come on, Drew. Start explaining.”

Start where? Words failed him. His life had been a thousand times easier staying away from her. Lonely as hell, but easier. She'd moved on, had a kid, and the best way to honor her independence was to move on with his. He focused on his purpose here: to get her into Casey's protection.

“Speaking of vaporizing,” he began, pointing at her. He realized the error of the phrase when her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Some important people are worried about you and your son.” Casey couldn't have warned him about that detail? Where was the kid's father? “They asked me if I could track you down.”

“What kind of important people?”

“People who want to keep you safe.”

She pursed those full, rosy lips, then shook her head. “Congratulations. You of all people should know I came here because I didn't want to be found. Tell them you were wrong. Tell them you couldn't find me.”

“Not a chance. I can't go back empty-handed.”

“Of course you can. You
will
, since I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Be reasonable, Addison.”

“You first,” she snapped, carefully pitching her voice so she wouldn't wake her son. “Tell me who sent you.”

“You need help. You're in over your head.”

“Give me a name, Drew.”

He hesitated. “You've got the authorities running in circles looking for you all over the country,” he hedged. Based on her mutinous expression, she wouldn't budge on this. The only name he could give wouldn't mean anything to her anyway. He weighed the mission goal with the usual security requirements. “Thomas Casey sent me.”

“Alone?”

Drew nodded, wondering why she was so insistent about this.

“Who is he to you?”

“No one.” He jerked a shoulder. “A man who gets what he wants. He sent an escort to pick me up in Detroit—”

“Detroit,
Michigan
?”

Inside his head, Drew swore. Was there anything he could do right here? “Yes.”

“You've been living in the States?”

“Yes.”

“You're not dead. You're living back in your hometown.”

“Yes,” he whispered, feeling miserable for causing the pain in her soft icy-blue eyes.

“For how long?”

He might as well lay out all the cards. “I've been in Detroit almost a year.”

She turned her back on him. “Get out.”

“I can't do that.” How could he make her understand? Without her trust, he wasn't sure he could get her to cooperate, and he didn't want to resort to brute force.

She whirled around, her blue gaze full of fury and fire. “Sure you can. You've been in Detroit, letting me believe you were dead. You seem to have mastered staying out of my life. Feel free to continue.”

His temper bubbled up to match hers. “It wasn't my idea to change the status quo.” Irrational or not, she had a son. Not a baby or even a toddler—the kid was in grade school. “You didn't wait too damn long to get on with your life after the wedding,” he said, pointing toward the closed door.

She reeled back as if he'd hit her and her voice turned brittle. “You can't stay here.”

“I have to.” He struggled for any remnant of sanity. His world, barely held together since his release, was breaking apart now that he was in the same room with her. “You need me.”

“No, I don't,” she countered. “I'm doing just fine on my own.”

“Really? Craig Everett escaped federal custody.”

“Shh.” Panic flashed across her face as she glanced at the door. “He doesn't know anything yet.”

“So Everett is the kid's father?”

Her gaze turned hard as she glared at him again. “I know he escaped and I guarantee if he'd walked in that door—” she stabbed a finger in that direction “—if it had been anyone else but you, my aim would've been right on target.”

He believed her. He'd seen her in action on a shooting range. Years ago. “So you missed because it was me?”

“Yes.”

He accepted the admission as a small positive sign. “We can go our separate ways after I get you safely out of Ev—his reach.”

“How? Witness protection?”

“Possibly.” He didn't know the details, but he trusted Casey with the task.

“No deal.”

“Addi, be reasonable.”

“I am being reasonable. As well as responsible. You don't have any idea just how connected Craig is. Witness protection won't be enough and it isn't fair to my son.”

“Thomas Casey can keep you both safe.”

“He's in some branch of government?”

“He is.”

“No deal.”

Drew bit back another string of foul words. “You're infuriating.”

“Same goes for you.” She crossed the room to the refrigerator, opened the door and bent to look inside. He tried to ignore the view as the soft fabric of her shorts hugged her backside.

“I think this is our first real fight,” he said.

“Hardly,” she muttered, handing him a bottle of water. “But it can be our last. Take this for the road.”

“I'm not leaving.” He twisted off the plastic cap and leaned back in his chair. “We never fought before...our wedding day.” He forced the last two words out and then took a long drink of water.

“We fought plenty in the days and months after. You just weren't there.”

“I'm sorry, Addi. If I could change it...”

“It was our
wedding
day,” she whispered. “Why did they need
you
?”

His heart seized at the pain in her voice. Raw and fresh, she sounded exactly the way he felt every day. When he'd agreed to help Director Casey, he'd known her reaction would be volatile at best. He hadn't been prepared to deal with how much his appearance would hurt her. As she'd moved on with her life, he hadn't expected her to feel anything but initial shock at seeing him again.

But she didn't look like a woman who'd moved on, despite the evidence he'd seen for himself. Top of her field, gorgeous home in the right neighborhood and a son. That was the piece that slid like a knife between his ribs, straight to his heart. During his time as a prisoner, he'd fantasized about making love with Addi, about the family they would build in years to come.

She'd done that. With some other man.

“Why, Drew?”

He'd often asked the same thing and never found a decent answer. “I had the misfortune of knowing the key players in the area. Command said they needed me.”

Her eyes went wide. “That's not what I call an explanation.”

“It's the best I can offer.”

With a derisive snort, she paced the small room, pausing near the front door. She pushed her hands into her hair. “You're supposed to be dead.”

He wanted to take her in his arms and show her how alive he felt. How alive she made him feel now that he could hear her voice, smell the light citrus of her shampoo. He wrapped one palm around the other fist, massaging the tension in his hands. “For a time that's what I wanted, too.”

“I didn't say I wanted you to be dead.” She pushed loose strands of her golden hair behind her ears. “I heard the news from your dad. His face...” She gazed up at the slanted tin-roof ceiling. “He's the one who told me you'd died.”

“You saw my dad?” He swallowed the swell of grief that came with every thought of his father.

“Sure.” She nodded. “We spoke frequently after the interrupted wedding. He apologized to me that it didn't go as scheduled.” She leaned back against the big sink and propped one foot on the other.

The pose transported him back to the days when she'd stand just that way, waiting for the first cup of coffee to kick her into gear in the morning. He'd counted on a lifetime of moments like this one, but fate had dealt him a different hand.

“And I saw him again about two months after that,” she added.

Two months. It still bothered him the way the army had handled his capture. “They didn't waste any time pronouncing me dead.”

“They being the army, I assume?”

He nodded.

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really.” What surprised him was how much he struggled not to touch her. He wanted a rewind button, a way to go back and say no to that cursed assignment, no matter the consequences. “That kind of risk, the emergency operation, went with the job.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Past tense?”

“Yes.” He looked away from the softer sympathy in her eyes.

“But they still tapped you to come find me.”

“Not in a military capacity. The army decided I wasn't fit for duty anymore.”

“What the hell?” Her eyes raked him from head to toe. “Who made that decision?”

“Addi, the details aren't relevant right now.”

“Of course they are,” she insisted. “If you're not fit for service, why would this Casey person call you?”

“My kind of luck. The sooner I get you to him, the sooner we can get back to our lives.” Separate lives, if that was what she wanted.

“You seem eager,” she said. She came over and took the chair across from his at the table. “What kind of life do you have to get back to?”

Not the kind he wanted, that was for damn sure. In the weak light he caught another glimpse of the thin gold chain she wore, but whatever charms were on it were hidden by the T-shirt. Early in their relationship, he'd given her a heart charm inscribed with their initials and the date they'd met. He was a sap for hoping she still wore it.

“Drew?”

He didn't want to talk about himself. His life was vacant, nothing but loss and heartache. Hers mattered more. “What kind of life did you leave?”

Her lip curled. “I left an illusion,” she said. “And I won't let myself fall into the same trap again.”

What the hell did that mean? “You can't stay out here forever.”

“I could,” she argued. “But I don't need forever. And I sure don't need the certain failure of federal protection if they can't keep a traitor behind bars.”

“All right. What's the plan?”

“That's none of your concern.”

“I'm making it my concern.”

She laughed, a bitter edge in the soft sound, as she propped her foot on the seat of the chair. He watched her run her fingertips over a small scar near her kneecap.

The blast of worry over an obvious sign of surgery was just one more irrational reaction added to the rest, but he couldn't stop himself from asking her what had happened.

“Nothing major. I tweaked it on a ski trip in Tahoe.”

“When?”

“A couple years ago.”

He should've been there. For everything. “I didn't know you liked to ski.”

“Neither did I. It was a girls' weekend kind of thing.”

Why did that flood him with so much relief? “I was in the middle of a rec league basketball game when Casey picked me up.”

“Oh?”

“Since I, um, got back, I got involved a bit with the old neighborhood.”

“Following in your dad's footsteps?”

Drew shrugged. “It was a starting point.”

She bit her lip and pressed the back of her hand to the corner of her eye. “He was a good man, Drew.” She cleared her throat. “The news of your death just tore him up.”