Heavy Artillery Husband (9 page)

“Sophie.” He lifted the laptop away and cradled her hand, stroking gently along the bones of her wrist, to her elbow and then down to each finger.

Soothing and comforting. Her hand and arm melted at the familiar comfort and her heart followed suit. Here was what she'd been missing, what she'd longed for. Every deployment or career task that kept them apart, they'd had this to come home to: the steady, nurturing support they'd consistently found in each other.

She had considered herself an independent person for the entirety of their marriage. Sharing the burdens and joys of life didn't lessen any part of her or him as individuals. The camaraderie, the acceptance and easy affection, she hadn't known how much she depended on those intangible traits until they had been ripped from her life.

He murmured her name, his gaze full of such raw compassion she knew his thoughts mirrored her own. Slowly, he tipped up her chin. Slower still, giving her plenty of time and space to turn away, he lowered his mouth until his lips brushed softly across hers.

She welcomed his kiss, let it sink into her being. The immediate flash of heat and passion was as reassuring and familiar as everything else about him. This kiss was loaded with more tenderness, more patience than the one she'd planted on him in DC. She raked her fingers through his hair, angling her mouth for deeper access to all that she craved from him.

On a soft sigh, her lips parted. She relished the hot velvet stroke of his tongue over hers. His taste ignited her body in ways she hadn't let herself remember for the sole purpose of preserving her sanity. His palms smoothed over her shoulders, down her back and over the curve of her hips. Fingers flexed and teased, playing her body as though they'd never been parted.

Every reunion had been this way. Sweet and hot, they fell on each other with the pent-up longing distance had created. Her fingers knew the curve of his jaw, the small scar at his hairline. She knew just where to kiss his throat and make him shiver with anticipation.

Her hips flexed into him automatically, and the feel of his erection sent goose bumps racing over her skin. Her body was more than willing to make up for lost time. He could have her. She knew the pleasure she'd enjoy taking him deep inside.

For too long, she'd believed this depth of yearning and fulfillment was out of her reach. She'd spent so many terrible nights regretting every moment they hadn't seized because they'd been so sure they had plenty of time.

On a surge of need she pressed up on her toes and fused her mouth to his. Her husband, the love of her life and her soul mate, was right where he belonged at last. People didn't get second chances as precious as this one. She wouldn't squander it.

He boosted her up and she wound her arms and legs around him, troubles burned away by this glorious contact. The scruff on his jaw rasped against the fragile skin just under her ear as he murmured those delicious Italian endearments between nips of his teeth and soft kisses.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard her daughter's false irritation imploring them to get a room. The memory was as effective as a bucket of ice.

“Stop.” She bent her head, keeping her lips out of his reach. “It's not so simple.” It took more effort than she expected to put her feet on the floor and remain steady.

“Not simple at all,” he agreed, his arms still banded around her, holding her close to the marvelous heat and strength of his body.

She forced her palms flat against his chest, pushing just hard enough to back away. She inhaled, drawing in the first deep breath of air not entirely infused with his masculine scent.

Better. And a thousand times worse. “Guess we've still got it,” she remarked, wishing it wasn't true. This powerful attraction complicated everything.

“Feels that way.”

“For everyone's sake we, um, should...” She licked her lips, tasting him. “Uh, we should stick to the matter of clearing your name.”

“Sophia?”

She looked away. “Don't try to get around me with those eyes and that tone. I can't pretend the past year didn't happen, Frank.”

“I don't blame you for
any
of your choices.”

She wished she could say the same. She shouldn't blame him—he'd been caught in a precarious dilemma—yet she did. Being disappointed in him when he'd been in such a dilemma added guilt to the rest of the churning mix in her gut. Holding her arm out as if it might be enough of a deterrent, she kept herself just beyond his reach.

“I appreciate that.” She wasn't sure she deserved his understanding. Grabbing her toiletry bag, she headed for the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. The words scraped her throat raw as she pushed them out. “But I blame you for yours.”

There, she'd said it. Now they both knew how awful she was.

His nostrils flared on a sharp inhale and his gaze shuttered as she closed the door between them.

Chapter Seven

Cumberland,
Maryland
Wednesday, April 20, 8:30 a.m.

At the regional airport, Frank parked the rental car in the hourly lot. He didn't expect the meeting with Paul to take long. They'd stowed their luggage in a locker near the restrooms and now were waiting for a cab to take them to the prison in Cumberland.

With little to occupy his mind, he congratulated himself on surviving another long night with his wife well out of his reach. Her breakdown, admitting she'd suffered so much anxiety over him in the early years, nearly crushed him. He admired her even more for overcoming it and, given a chance, he'd hold her close—as if a hug now would soothe away her old troubles.

The idea of holding her brought him right back to the spectacular kiss that had put his world to rights again despite stopping far short of his body's ultimate goal. He understood why Sophia had pulled away and couldn't resent her for it. He'd broken the most essential promise—to always be there for her.

He'd abused her trust. She wasn't sure she could count on him anymore. As messed up as things were with Halloran's operation, Frank maintained a fair confidence that they could bring that man and his cronies to justice. But the trust issue, the gaping canyon between husband and wife—that he wasn't so sure could be resolved.

“Breaking news.” Sophia nudged him with her elbow and raised her chin at the television mounted in the corner of the tiny coffee shop.

In slacks and a classic sweater set in a pale rose color that put a glow in her golden skin, she looked overdressed for a trip to a prison. Having spent some time on the wrong side of the bars, he knew he was overdressed, as well. He'd chosen khakis and a polo shirt, hoping the guards would believe his impersonation of a lawyer taking a break between the front nine and back nine.

“Hey.” She bumped him again. “You're not paying attention.”

This time when he glanced at the television, he read the ticker. The overhead shot of the Pentagon on this sunny spring day was layered with a professional head shot of Lowry. When the live feed returned, it was a view of Lowry being led out of the building in handcuffs toward a black government-issue sedan.

“Nice work,” he murmured, though no one was around to hear him. Lowry in official custody would definitely get a rise out of Halloran. Frank was more eager for the next confrontation than he should be. He wanted the leader of Hellfire to understand, to absolutely
fear
, what Frank and Sophia planned to dish out. Justice, yes, along with enough pain to qualify as vengeance.

“It may not hold him long, but it should get a reaction. The intel from the phone gave my earlier claims more juice,” she said. She held up her hand for a celebratory fist bump.

Preferring a kiss, he understood the line she'd drawn. “We're dealing with some cool heads,” he reminded her. Halloran hadn't created his network and cash cow by jumping at every little provocation. Then again, the provocation Sophia had created wasn't so little.

“We're also dealing with egos and profit margins,” she returned. “I doubt Lowry will roll on his boss. We just need to cast doubts.”

“Regardless, this distraction buys us time to question Paul and move before they can catch up with us.”

Beside him, she nodded and crossed her legs. “Anyone here of concern to you?” she asked.

“Not so far.”

“Good.”

“You seem nervous.” He wanted her to share the cause of her antsy behavior. More, he wanted her to trust him to help her fix it.

“I expected them to follow us.”

“They'll catch up soon enough,” he said. “Are you spoiling for a fight?”

“I suppose,” she admitted. “It would be nice to have a clear target for all my frustration.”

“Your frustration or your company?”

“The company resources there would give us an advantage.” She checked her watch, then the window. “I thought cabdrivers stuck close to airports.”

“If we tap the company, we put people we love in the cross fire.”

She rolled her lips between her teeth and then gave him a wide, false smile. “We'll table the topic for now. Let's review the interview strategy.”

They'd done that for most of the two-hour drive. “We don't have to quiz Sterling at all.” He couldn't decide if he wanted her to take him up on that offer or not. A small part of him wanted to gloat that Sophia was with him, again. Except he wasn't sure he'd get to keep her this time. “With Lowry in custody, I'm sure Farrell will show up.”

“Do you know where?” She waited expectantly, but he didn't have an answer. “Unless we use other resources, we need the inside line on Farrell that Paul may be able to give us.”

The implication was clear enough. Leo Solutions could run everything, if only Frank would agree. He wouldn't take the chance with Frankie's safety. It bothered him enough what Sophia had run through her assistant and that his girls were texting about wedding plans.

“You know, I could always talk to him alone.”

“No,” she replied a little too quickly. “If we're both there, he can't play either one of us.”

“Okay.” She was right, though he wondered how long it had taken her to come up with the argument. What he knew about Afghanistan and what Sophia had pieced together afterward would be a system of checks and balances if Paul tried to lie.

“There's our ride,” he said as a yellow cab came into view. With his hand at the small of her back, he escorted her outside and into the waiting vehicle.

Sophia slid across the crackled leather seat of the old cab and gave the driver the address of the prison. She took a snapshot of the cabdriver's license on his dash and then entered a text message.

Frank raised an eyebrow in query.

“A precaution,” she replied quietly. “My assistant knows I'm on a research trip for a client.”

He nodded, unable to come up with a response that wouldn't reveal the turmoil inside him.

They didn't speak to each other or the driver. The vehicle hadn't been upgraded with a screen between the front and back seats, and there wasn't much worth discussing in front of a stranger.

The reached their destination too soon. The driver could've taken all day and the trip would still have been too short for Frank. When they arrived, he got out and held the door for her before giving the cabdriver a hundred dollars in cash to wait for them. When it was time to go, he wanted to get out fast.

If walking into a prison on nothing more than her word that he wouldn't have to stay indefinitely didn't prove how much he trusted her, he wasn't sure what would.

“I know this can't be easy,” she said, linking her hand with his.

“I'm fine,” he lied through gritted teeth. He couldn't let her know just how much he wanted to run. It wasn't about seeing the bastard who'd taken advantage of her in Frank's absence. He'd had time to process that she'd run to Sterling for help after the verdict and funeral. It was about being trapped and never being able to be with her and their daughter the way he wanted.

Her steps slowed as they neared the gate. “Frank?”

Behind the shelter of his sunglasses, he studied her with unveiled love until his face felt normal again. “A half hour is worth it for a decent lead on hard intel.”

Surely his fake ID and the myriad favors people owed Sophia would protect them that long.

* * *

S
OPHIA
FELT
TERRIBLE
for asking Frank to take this chance, but she couldn't risk leaving him back at the hotel area waiting somewhere between here and there. Not to mention, she couldn't face Paul alone. The tendons and muscles of Frank's hand were wound tight, and when she slipped her finger to his wrist, she felt his pulse pounding. He was doing a good job at being stoic and supportive, letting none of the stress show.

She'd cleared the visit early this morning and as they passed through security, the guard told them Paul was waiting. Good. She wanted in and out of here as quickly as possible.

As much as she tried to ignore the awkwardness, it dogged her as she and Frank walked down the faded, industrial-green hallway to a conference room. She was about to stand with her husband and interview a lover who'd betrayed her. If there had been a stranger situation in her past, she couldn't recall it right now.

Her heart hammered in her ears and she tried to imagine the best possible outcome. Though Paul might try to expose Frank's true identity, he wouldn't once he learned about the proverbial ace she had up her sleeve. Still, the potential for such a confrontation put an electric current in the air. The mocking expression she'd come to hate slid over Paul's face the second he spotted them. She raised her chin, entering the room first, daring him to try something. After the havoc he'd created for her and the company in Seattle, he owed her a conversation.

The metal chairs scraped loudly against the concrete floor as Frank pulled out hers, then his own. Paul's handcuffs rattled as he shifted in his seat. “What a pleasant surprise for me this morning.”

“We're here for one thing.” Sophia wouldn't waste any time on false pleasantries.

Paul's mean gaze darted between her and Frank. “Does that go for the dead guy, too?”

She glanced down and noticed Frank's hand curling into a fist on his thigh. She didn't blame him. Given the chance, she'd happily deck Paul, as well. “You went to college with Jack Farrell. Tell me about him.”

Paul's eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Farrell.” His eyes slid to Frank again. “Huh. If I knew anything, why would I tell you?”

Sophia cleared her throat, drawing Paul's attention. “You told me you didn't have anything to do with Frank's career troubles, that you only took advantage after the fact.”

He gave her a lecherous sneer. “You didn't have any complaints at the time.”

Frank shifted in a blink and the table was suddenly pressed against Paul's chest. “What did they offer you to get close to her?”

It seemed she and Frank had independently reached a similar conclusion overnight after discovering the import-export office in Seattle. As a friend, Farrell could have used Paul to be sure Sophia and Frankie weren't uncovering anything that would expose Hellfire.

“She came to me,” Paul grumbled.

“Enough,” Sophia said quickly. She pulled the table back to neutral territory. “I've been going through the company records. Seems you knocked some sense into me last week.”

“What?”
Frank asked, his voice low and deadly.

She silenced him with a touch of her knee to his. “Water under the bridge.” She focused on Paul again. “I came to you for help, yes. When did Farrell come to you?”

“He wanted a cybersecurity program. We needed clients.” He shrugged. “Later they tossed me a bonus to keep an eye on you and your girl. Money wasn't the best prize.” His gaze dropped to her breasts and climbed slowly back to her face.

Her blood curdled at the vulgar look on his face. How had she been so oblivious of his real motives? “Tell me about Farrell and the program he asked for.”

“Why? It's not as though you'll make my life any better.”

“I bet she can make it worse,” Frank threatened. “Or I can.”

“You think a dead man scares me?”

“Hey!” Sophia rapped her knuckles on the table. Time to lay out all the cards. “I've been digging, Paul.” Money was the man's only priority and she'd found his stash. “That makes
me
the real threat here.” Since his arrest, she'd changed his passwords and her tech team had rooted out all his backdoor access to Leo Solutions. One call and Paul would find the money he was counting on using after his time served had been donated to the charity of her choice. She waited, holding his gaze as his skin blanched. “Are we on the same page now?”

Paul nodded solemnly, fear in his eyes for the first time.

“I'm determined to set the record straight,” Sophia said. “I can see that you get lumped in with the rest of them, or I can tell the prosecutors that your connection to General Leone's downfall was peripheral. You have fifteen minutes to convince me the latter is our best interest.”

With a heavy sigh, Paul shared everything he knew about his college pal. From Farrell's upbringing to the current business interests Paul was aware of.

“Where is he now?” Sophia asked, making notes.

“Last I heard he splits his time between his place south of Tucson and a desk in some accounts receivable department,” Paul replied.

“Tucson,” she echoed. Paul had planted documents in a safe-deposit box in a bank near Tucson, using the find to manipulate Frankie.

“There's a reason I used that bank.” His mouth curved into an ugly smile, confirming he'd read her mind. “Image is everything, isn't it? Especially when the culprit is right under your nose.”

Her teeth clenched. “Be clear,” she insisted. Frank's future was riding on this.

“World Bridge Shipping, maybe?” Paul's brow wrinkled in thought. “Something like that. I know there's more than one office in the States,” he added. “Farrell doesn't do anything for the money. Doesn't need it. He's got a warped thing for power and respect.” Paul shook his head. “If you want him, try Arizona.” He flattened one hand over the other and leaned forward. “I gave you all you need. I expect you to do the same.”

She nodded. Paul was all about the money. The man had her tense from her scalp to the soles of her feet. As much as she hated this meeting, it gave them a fresh lead angle to pursue. She wouldn't rest until the right man—or men—was behind bars for the crimes he'd pinned on her husband.

“Thank you for your time,” she said, sliding out of the seat.

Neither man moved, locked in a silent battle of wills. “Don't you dare make a scene,” she said, not certain which man worried her more.