Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) (14 page)

“Let’s go check it out.”

“Right.”

Grace took the lead, and he remained several paces behind her. He swiped his brow, noting how the sun speared straight between the rows of storage lockers. The brick building was up ahead on the left. As they neared, he noted the black square next to the reinforced steel door.

A keypad.

Shit.

“Please tell me you have the code for this.” He tapped the black box. “Damn.”

“I...Margery didn’t mention...” Grace smashed her lips together, making them appear bloodless. She released a loud pent up breath, and the blood returned, shading her lips in a soft, sexy pink. “I can do this.”

She swiped the card through the reader. The LED indicator blinked green and she punched a series of numbers on the keypad. The light flashed an angry red and held.

Shaking her head, she tried again with the same result. Her shoulders slumped.

“I can shoot the damn thing,” he offered.

Her spine stiffened. “Would that really work?”

He shrugged. “Hell if I know. I just wanted to see that spark return to your eyes.”

The smooth skin between her brows crinkled, but some fire replaced the dejected look. “Ryker’s birthdate.” She nodded. “Got to be.”

She visibly held her breath as she stepped up to the keypad, and he found himself doing the same.

The indicator blinked green once Grace swiped the card and she rapidly punched three numbers into the pad.

Eight twenty three. August 23
rd
.

The light flashed once more then went steady, and the door unlatched with an audible click.

“Wait.” Keith held up a hand when Grace put hers on the door handle, and withdrew his pistol from the deep pocket of his cargo pants. “Let me check it out first.”

He pushed open the door with the toe of his boot and slipped inside before she had a chance to argue. Weak light filtered through the squat rectangular windows placed high on the wall.

When his eyes adjusted to the gloom he saw that the building was sparsely furnished. A couple of desks. Computer equipment. The other side of the room, separated by a low wall, looked like an empty car bay with a metal roll-up door.

He checked the perimeter, shaking out the shadows for his own piece of mind, and returned to Grace. “It’s clear.”

She gasped as she stepped inside. “What is this?”

A light switch housed near the door caught his eye and he flipped it. Track lighting flooded the room from all directions, illuminating the two high-tech computers.

“Looks like we found Mark’s office.”

She pressed a hand to her heart. “Office?” Dismay clouded her voice. She picked her way to a desk that held one of the computers and touched the monitor. “Here?”

“You didn’t know anything about this?”

He didn’t need to hear her answer. The troubled haze in her eyes told him Mark had kept her in the dark as much as he. Why had Mark never mentioned this ‘secret’ office to him? They’d been going full steam with their inside operation for close to a year.

“No.” She tipped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. “Mark was never what you’d call forthcoming with details.”

“Why is that?”

As soon as the question popped out of his mouth, he wanted to reach out and snatch it back. What did it matter whether Mark had been God’s gift to husbandry or a shitty substitute?

He was...curious. Damn, what a stupid word. And why did it always make him think of that obnoxious monkey and the man with the big yellow hat? He blinked that weird childhood image from his mind and told himself he was better off not knowing too many details about Grace and Mark’s relationship.

After all, he knew what happened to the curious.

They unearthed secrets that were better left dead and buried.

“I don’t know,” she said with a slight jerk of her shoulders. Obviously, the fact that she was clueless about many of Mark’s activities didn’t sit well with her.

Nor him. He felt protective indignation churn his gut. What would make Mark divorce a woman who seemed generous, and giving, and capable of so much love?

Love.

He mentally snorted. Love? Since when did he believe in its existence?

Love was fiction, not fact. It was acceptance. Belonging. Ah, hell, it was fantasy. Nothing but fantasy.

At least in his world.

“I never knew him, did I?” She leaned across the desk and touched a shadowbox frame pinned to the wall. “I mean, I never knew he was in the military, never knew he did...” She gestured around the sparse room, “this.” Her hands fell to her sides. “Our marriage was all a sham.”

He stepped behind her, taking in the trio of photographs. Mark, Grace and Ryker smiled back at him, the perfect picture of Cleaver happiness.

“You loved him.”

There it was, that damn “L” word again. He’d have sooner bit off his tongue than let that question slip. But Grace had a way of making him want the very things he stubbornly refused to believe in.

She tipped her head. “Yeah. I did. When I first met him, he was...I don’t know, charismatic. Dynamic. He commanded the room when he walked in.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Now I know why. He had a commanding profession. One he never shared. What else did he keep from me?”

“Maybe nothing.” He rested his hands on her shoulders.

She stiffened against his touch. “I...I needed more from him. But after Ryker was born, Mark was even more illusive. His business trips became longer and more frequent, and he was increasingly remote. By the time Ryker turned three, I couldn’t ignore it anymore and asked Mark for a divorce.”

Grace sighed and pulled out of his grasp, absently rubbing at her brow. “I needed someone I could trust to always be there, you know? Someone that could look me in the eye and be honest, instead of putting distance between us when I pressed for answers. After Becca’s—,” stricken eyes sought his, “—Well, before I’d even met Mark, I spent five long years feeling isolated from the world. The last thing I expected was for him to make me feel more alone than I already was.”

She pivoted on her heel and crossed to the other side of the room, causing his bullshit meter to spike. Grace was keeping something from him. He didn’t want to believe she was capable of duping him, but several times now she’d censored her words and changed the subject. Why would she do that?

“He’s Ryker’s father,” Grace said, and there it was, that smooth change of subject that told him her previous words were off limits. “And he’s a good one. I know he’d die before putting his son at risk. There has to be a reason he kept this place a secret.”

Frustration slithered through his veins. “And what would that be?”

His question was far harsher than intended, but damn it, he didn’t want Grace to turn out to be just another one of those people who couldn’t be taken at their word. From the snap of her head he knew she felt the sudden chill.

Her eyes blazed. “I don’t know, Keith. You tell me.”

He crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the desk. “I’ve known the good ‘ole Bard for about a year. In all that time he never mentioned he’d once been married. Or that he had a son.”

Her lips trembled, twisted. She closed her eyes. “Why would he do that?”

The fragility in her voice crushed his chest. He was an ass. Of course Mark wouldn’t have discussed his personal life.

Keith pushed away from the desk and took Grace’s cold hands in his. “In Mark’s line of work...the hazards...” He rubbed her hands trying to infuse them with warmth. “Personal details don’t belong on the job. Ever. And in Mark’s case...he was the job. You know what I mean?”

“No.” Bewilderment filled the single word.

Every instinct he possessed warned him not to tell her too much. But her wounded eyes bombed that intuition straight to hell. “Everyone knew Mark worked for Defense Intelligence, but only a few choice people knew that Mark was part of the Gray Army.”

“Gray Army?” Grace yanked her hands out of his grasp. “What the heck is that?” She dragged her fist nervously across her mouth. “Is that like joining the Special Forces or something?”

“You don’t join the Gray Army. It’s by special invitation only. Accepting that invitation is the equivalent of giving up your own identity.”

Grace wet her lips, her eyes darted around the room. “Oh, God. I think I need a seat.”

“Good idea,” he said, because there was more he had to tell her. And she wouldn’t like it.

She lowered herself into the leather executive chair with deep, almost greedy, breaths. “Go on.”

“The Gray Army is specifically trained to pose as anyone, anywhere, at any given moment. Their missions are highly classified and require the men to go deep undercover. In short, they’re taught to...disappear.”

“As in forever.” Grace jaw went taut, the muscles in her neck pulled tight.

He shoved a hand through his hair. “If something goes wrong, yes.”

Her knuckles went white against the chair’s armrest. “Clearly this would classify as something gone wrong, right?”

The dead calm in her voice shook him up more than her hysterics would have. He knelt and pulled her close.

She wanted none of his comfort. “Give it to me straight,” she said, pushing out of his arms and leveling him with a steely look. “Mark was going to disappear for good.”

Don’t say it. What good will it do?

“Wasn’t he?” she persisted.

He swore. “Yeah, I think so.”

Now that she had the confirmation she wanted, her eyes went wide and filled with tears. Her jaw slackened. She twisted away from him and covered her face with her hands. “What about Ryker? Did he plan to disappear with Ryker?”

“I think Mark felt he didn’t have a choice. This man we’re after, he has an infinite number of resources at his disposal. And he’s not above using a child for leverage. No matter how secretive Mark was about you and Ryker...” He shook his head. “He probably thought Ryker would be safer on the run with him. That he could find a way to make everything right again.”

“And how long would he go on running?” She fisted her hands in front of her face. “With Ryker.”

“Indefinitely. If he had to.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly, causing her tears to spill down her cheeks. “So, there’s nothing here, then? Is there? No miracle clue to lead us to him and Ryker?”

The desperation in her eyes socked Keith in the gut. He tenderly wiped the wetness from her cheek.

“If Mark was using this place in secret, he was obviously gathering information against the asshole selling our nation’s security down the river. Maybe it’s still here.”

He moved toward the bank of computers and hit the power button on first one computer then the second. The monitor blinked to life, spouting out a series of computer jargon before it stopped with nothing more than a blinking cursor.

No operating system found.

The second monitor spouted an identical statement.

His head throbbed. They were too late. “He wiped the hard drives.”

“Who, Mark? Or the...the...”

He slammed his palm on the desk. “Son of a bitch.” He spun away from the monitors. There had to be something here. Something to give them a lead on the scum-sucking traitor who seemed to follow their every move.

“Let’s hope it was Mark,” he said, leaving the ‘or we don’t have a prayer’ part of his statement unsaid. He pulled on the drawers of the tall file cabinet, but just as he suspected they were empty.

“What about an internet connection? He had to have transferred the information somewhere, right? If we could find—”

“No cables. No phone jack. Mark would’ve had some sort of satellite link up. And anything like that is long gone.”

“We’re not far behind them.” She looked determined to find one tiny piece of positive information. “Margery said she saw Mark and Ryker yesterday. How far could they have gone?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and for the first time really looked across the low wall separating the space to the large rollup door. “Did Mark store an extra car here?”

“Margery didn’t say.” She gasped. “But she did say something about a boat.”

He leapt over the low concrete divider and found a switch against the wall. He flipped it and florescent light chased away the shadows along the cement floor.

A plastic can sat in one corner. Keith bent and tipped the can to the crappy light. Marine fuel.

“A boat. Hot damn. Any idea what it’s called?”

“The...the Enigma.”

He curled his fingers into fists. They were getting close. So damn close. Soon he’d reunite Grace with Ryker and grill Mark for the evidence he needed.

It was almost over. He glanced back at Grace.

Anticipation—
hope
—visibly coursed through her, alighted in her green eyes and the shapely curve of her lips.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering there. From remembering the way she’d returned his kiss and made him want to lose the sharp jaded part of himself that never truly allowed for freedom. His chest constricted into a tight, twisted mass that sank deep into the pit of his stomach.