Hold on Tight (12 page)

“You’re never going to have the security you want until Alek is caught. And now, with the baby coming, the possibility of starting a family, you’ll have to keep your guard up.”

“The trail’s been cold for a long time.”

“You need to think ahead, to the
what if.”

“I’ve always thought about that. But suppose I want to live in the right now?” It was her turn to demand, to get angry—to ask the hard questions.

Kevin had been doing this for a long time—dealing with people who were forced to lead different lives, people who were scared and angry and upset. He wasn’t backing down. “For someone in your position, that’s not possible.”

“Why is it possible for PJ, then? She seems free as anything.”

“Physically, she might be. But here”—he tapped his head—“she’s even more trapped than you feel.”

Jamie knew that.

Kevin continued, “I know you resent hearing all of this. I don’t blame you.”

“My parents followed all the rules and they still died.” She heard the mix of resentment and grief in her own voice, hated that it was all so raw whenever the subject came up.

“They died because your mother screwed up,” Kevin said evenly … revealing a truth Jamie had never known. “She called her best friend from home—started that about two months before she was killed. She called her the same time once a week to talk. And that’s how Alek found your house in Minnesota. Your mother broke the cardinal rule of witness protection.”

And now she was following in her mother’s footsteps. She put a hand over her mouth, even though she wanted to shout to Kevin that it wasn’t the same thing, not at all. But she couldn’t, because the pain of her mother’s betrayal stung. “Why would she do that? I don’t understand …”

“She was lonely. She planned to … she was going to leave your dad, Jamie. Leave all of you behind and start a new life somewhere else.”

“I can’t believe it.” Didn’t want to believe it.

“Your mom’s best friend was found dead twelve hours before your parents’ murder.”

Jamie opened her mouth and then closed it. She grabbed the table for support as what Kevin told her began to sink in. “PJ … she knows all this?”

He nodded. “Jamie, I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have told you like this. Shouldn’t have told you at all.”

“I guess I’m just like my mother. Giving away the position to a stranger.”

“I never wanted you to know any of that. I wish to hell I hadn’t told you.”

“And I wish you’d told me earlier. Don’t you see, we were safe until she stopped following the rules. If you’d told me …” She faltered, because she knew that even if she’d known, she’d have told Chris about her past in order to save her sister. “I can trust Chris. I know that. It felt good to admit it to someone. He understands—”

“He can’t understand, Jamie. He might say he does, but is he willing to follow you if you have to go into hiding again? Will he give up his family for you and not resent it?”

“I know my father resented my mother for putting all of us in danger, I know that in the end he hated her,” she spat at him. “I’m not stupid, Kevin. I heard all their fights.”

Her mother had disappointed her in so many ways—the fights, the way she’d been there in body but not in spirit, when Jamie needed her so desperately. But Jamie had never, ever expected to hear that her mother was the reason they’d been found. Her mother was supposed to be a fierce protector, and instead, she’d betrayed them all.

And now Jamie was doing the same thing, ready to put a child—one that shouldn’t have been conceived at all—in danger.

“I need to be alone,” she said finally, her voice sounding flat and wooden to her own ears. “You need to all just leave me alone.”

“You know we can’t do that,” he said, even as his beeper sounded. His job reaching out to him. Another family needing him. She could see it in his eyes as he looked from the numbers on the display to her.

“Go,” she told him. “You help someone else follow the rules, Kevin. Go help people keep their goddamned secrets to themselves.”

She was all alone on her side, while he sat next to Saint and his lawyer, and Chris wanted to get up and sit next to her.

Mark would’ve damned well understood it.

Saint, not so much, as evidenced by the hardness in his face when Chris had admitted to him that he’d seen Jamie since his most recent return from Africa.

You’re digging your grave
, Saint told him as they drove to the JAG offices.
Tuck your fucking testosterone into your pants and check the fuck up. Now
.

A good plan. And based on the way Saint had reacted, Chris figured keeping secret the fact that Jamie was pregnant was best for all concerned.

If the investigation didn’t wrap up soon, though, Jamie would have to walk away from the case—and as much as Chris hated seeing doubt in her eyes when she asked him about Josiah, he didn’t want her job compromised because of him.

“Let’s get started.” His lawyer sifted through various folders on the large, rectangular oak table in front of them. It was quiet in here, cool and dark and stately.

It made Chris want to play loud music to break the energy up. Made him want to reach across the table for Jamie’s hand … and fuck, he wasn’t usually this much of a sap.

He was being careful not to acknowledge their connection, except to give her the once-over to make sure she was feeling better. That things with the man stalking her were under control. But still, he hadn’t been lying to her when he told her that their attraction was hard to hide.

“Chris, keep it together,” Saint muttered when he saw Chris’s hands begin to tap the table. Chris put them out flat and tried to keep his feet steady on the floor as he concentrated on Jamie.

“I’ve spoken with Captain Cameron Moore,” she began, directing the statement to him, and okay, so that’s the way they were going to play this one. “According to him, none of your team members were happy to have Josiah running point for the mission.”

“How is that relevant, Agent Michaels?” his lawyer asked. Chris didn’t tear his eyes from Jamie, because he knew what she was getting at.

“Do I have to spell it out? From the start, the team didn’t like Josiah’s plan. If Chris and the others conspired to get him out of the way—”

“Why the fuck would I conspire against my team? These were men I trusted to watch my back.” Chris heard the anger in his own voice when he interrupted her.

“But you don’t think Josiah Miller should’ve been in charge?”

“He had the least amount of combat experience. Besides, there was nothing to negotiate once we got in there.”

“So you don’t think Mark stepped over the line?”

“Of course he did.” Chris stood fast, the Styrofoam cup of coffee Saint had poured him earlier jolted and sloshed onto the table. “He stepped over a line we straddle every damned time we go out. But he saved lives.”

“You don’t know that for sure. If he’d stayed put, you might’ve come back with your entire team.”

“I didn’t realize they taught twenty-twenty hindsight at the Bureau,” he spat at her, realized his hands were shaking from anger.

“Josiah sent notes to his supervisor. He said that his team wasn’t allowing him to take command effectively.”

“They overrode a decision he made—they didn’t have to hurt him to do that,” his lawyer pointed out.

“Then all your client needs to do is to tell me about Josiah’s final moments.” She sounded strong, looked strong, but Chris could see she wasn’t enjoying this at all. And she was overcompensating out of fear that the other men could tell there was something between them.

She cared. She could love him—he was sure of that, and it helped to ease some of the pain the past days had wrought.

“I’ve told you what I remember. I can go over it with you again,” Chris offered, but she was shaking her head and closing her small leather notebook.

“I need more, Chris. You’ve got to understand that. The FBI isn’t backing down on this.”

It was her first breach of professionalism, and she caught herself for a moment. But then she continued, looking at Saint and the lawyer. “I’ve closed the case against Cameron Moore. I don’t want
this
case to go any further. Find a reason for me to close it. Please.”

With that, she left the room.

His lawyer looked at Chris. “Do you know her outside of this proceeding? Because she shouldn’t be working this case if you do.”

“Yeah, let’s kick off the agent who wants to help Chris and bring in a brand-new, impartial fed who wants his head on a stick.” Saint stood. “We’ll take our chances with Agent Michaels, understood?”

Saint waited until the lawyer nodded and then told him, “I need a minute alone with Chris.”

“That’s fine. Call me when you’re done. I just need a few more minutes with you both.”

Saint waited until the door closed, leaving them alone, before asking, “You want to share a little more with me about what’s going on between you and Agent Michaels?”

The words came out before he could think. Or stop himself. “I’m in love with her.”

“Oh, fuck, Chris.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what Jake said.” Chris paused. “Nick already knew.”

Saint continued muttering to himself in Cajun French, a language Chris also knew intimately.

“And she’s pregnant,” Chris added, which made Saint stop the muttering. Now his CO simply stared at him in disbelief.

“Mark knew … knew that I loved her,” he continued. “We talked about it while we were reconning for four days straight on this last mission. I feel like maybe if he hadn’t known about my feelings for Jamie, he wouldn’t have chosen to go into that embassy alone, he would’ve taken me with him. Maybe he would’ve organized a way for the four of us to get some order over the chaos and still save the family.”

They’d been belly-down in the jungle for twelve hours overnight. The only move either of them had made in that time had been to close their eyes, one man at a time, to stay fresh and rested.

When dawn had hit, he and Mark shifted back for more cover. Twenty-seven hours into the mission and already they’d lost a man.

“Do you love her?”

“I could.” The words came out faster than he’d intended, which told him that there was a powerful truth to his admission. “Everything between us happened so fucking fast—there wasn’t time to think about anything or analyze it, it just was.”

Mark was cleaning his rifle as they spoke. “So what’s the problem?”

“Baggage.”

“Hers or yours?”

“Both.”

Mark paused in cleaning his weapon. “You’re going to let that shit stand in your way? All that bullshit doesn’t matter. Call her when you get home.”

“Mark did what he wanted when he wanted. Especially after his second time being captured—he really just fucking went for it.” Saint shook his head. “I’m not surprised that he was the first one to tell you not to let anything hold you back from Jamie, if she’s who you really want.”

“She is.”

Saint nodded. “Looks like she wants you too. So she’ll investigate. And there’s nothing for her to find, right?”

Mark’s final words to Chris from that night echoed inside his head and he could swear he smelled the burning fire as if it was right in front of him, could feel the heat on his face … could see the serious look in Mark’s eyes that forced the promise from Chris.

I’m asking Chris … I need you to do this for me …

Chris had done it. “No, there’s nothing for her to find.”

Chris had been right about what he’d said last night—there was no real way to hide the attraction between them, and she wondered how she could be so incredibly angry at someone and still want him so much.

She should’ve brought a lawyer from the Bureau with her to the meeting. Maybe that would’ve kept her on a short leash. Or, at the very least, gotten her released from this case.

Her supervisor had given her this job as a way to redeem herself, and so far she’d done everything possible to insure that wouldn’t happen. Based on today’s performance, she needed off this case. Or a miracle to show that Chris hadn’t done a thing wrong during the mission.

Now, against her better judgment once again, she waited in the outer office area to have a talk with Saint. He remained behind closed doors with Chris and the lawyer for a good fifteen minutes more before he emerged, alone. Thank goodness—she wasn’t ready to face Chris again just yet.

She really wasn’t ready to face the broad, handsome CO either, but she had no choice if she wanted to find out about her sister. Looking to a near-stranger for information about PJ should’ve been familiar to her by now, but it still hurt.

She’d always known so little about her sister’s love life. Maybe because there wasn’t much to know—at least on PJ’s end. Every man she’d been with had fallen a little bit—or a lot—in love with her. But PJ had never felt the same.

However, something about the way PJ looked when she spoke of Saint had made Jamie realize there was more going on there than even PJ realized.

Saint was handing in his visitor’s badge at the front desk. She stepped up next to him and did the same, and he acknowledged her with a curt nod before attempting to turn away.

But she caught his arm and said, “Saint …” and then hesitated briefly, as she couldn’t judge the look in his eyes. Perhaps the flare there had something to do with the fact that she still held his arm—not a good idea at all, and she quickly released it. “I need to speak with you, in private.”

“I’m not authorized to speak with you concerning Chris’s case. You know that as well as I do.” His look was pointed, but not unkind.

“It’s about PJ.”

“PJ? How do you know her?” His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice took on a protective tone, and yes, her instincts had been right on the money.

“She’s my sister.”

Saint looked surprised and then motioned for her to walk with him. He waited until they exited the building and were in the open air of the parking lot before he spoke. “She told me she had a sister—she never mentioned you by name, though.”

“Yes, well, she wouldn’t. She came to see me this morning, and she said she’s staying with you.”

He kept his eyes forward and continued walking. “She’s living on my deck.”

She raised her eyebrows. “On your deck,” she repeated.

He shrugged. “She’s got a sleeping bag and a tent.”

“Can’t you invite her in?”

“Have you met your sister?”

“Okay, yes, point taken. She’s stubborn.”

“Beyond stubborn,” he muttered.

“What’s your address? I’ll come get her.”

“Seems to me she’s not looking to be rescued.”

She stopped in front of him, blocking him from walking any farther, her frustrations of not being able to control anything in her life spilling over onto him. “You met her less than two days ago. You don’t understand—she’s …”

“Fucked up. She’s fucked up,” Saint finished for her as he stepped around her and moved toward a large, black SUV. She caught up with him as he opened the driver’s-side door and finished, “Who isn’t?”

She had no answer for that one, because certainly, at this moment, she fit into that category. “I’ll come get her,” she repeated.

“Leave her. She’s fine.” Saint’s voice was gruff. “She’ll come inside, or back to you, when she’s good and ready. Not before. Pushing her will only make things worse.”

“She’s not going to stick around. She never does.”

“And you’re telling me this, why? To warn me?” Saint was obviously through listening to her, was inside the car and closing the door as he told her, “Time’s up, Agent Michaels.”

She didn’t bother to argue—there was a firm set to his jaw. He’d gotten the message. She stepped back and stood there as he drove out of the parking lot.

If she really needed to, she could get Saint’s address, go to his house and grab PJ. But what then? After this morning’s episode, it was all too clear that PJ hadn’t dealt with anything that had happened to her in Africa with GOST.

No, maybe PJ was at the right place with the right person. Saint seemed as if he could handle anything. Whether or not he could handle her sister remained to be seen, but it appeared that he’d already taken up that gauntlet.

As Saint’s car exited the lot with a resounding screech, Jamie’s cell phone vibrated in her bag. She fished it out as she began to walk to her own car, flipped it open, and said hello without checking the caller screen.

“Just because you’ve got men watching you and your house doesn’t mean I can’t get to you, Jamie. You can’t keep yourself safe forever.” The voice was deep and angry, and there was no mistaking it was Gary Handler’s. Months of surveillance, listening in to his conversations had embedded it deep within her brain. “I just had the pleasure of killing one of your agent friends—Heather Linn. She had no idea what hit her.”

She circled around, phone to ear, gun drawn from its holster, and let her gaze sweep the bustling parking lot. There were plenty of hiding places around, although she couldn’t imagine Handler would have followed her here.

He must’ve found her cell number on something inside the house. “You’re going down, Handler. You might as well turn yourself in.”

“I’ve got nothing left to lose, Jamie. I’m not going back to prison. At least not before I finish what I started the night I killed your partner.”

“I’m ready for you, Handler. I always have been.”

Gary laughed, a harsh boom in her ears. “You put up such a good front … it’s going to be a pleasure watching you die.”

“You bastard,” she started, but he hung up quickly—so the call would be too short to trace, no doubt. If Gary had learned his lesson, he’d be using a disposable cell phone anyway.

Heart pounding, she moved quickly, boots clicking on the pavement as she hurried toward the relative safety of the building. She pushed open the heavy doors that led to the lobby.

She scanned the area, looking for a familiar face, someone in disguise, anything. There was security at the gates—she would check with them once she called in backup.

She needed to get the heck away from the glass doors, although they were double reinforced, and so she moved toward a small waiting area.

Phone in hand, she began to dial her supervisor, as Chris came out of his lawyer’s office.

Her focus shifted toward him … and she jumped as her phone rang. Speak of the devil. It was Lou.

“Gary Handler killed one of our agents last night,” he told her without any preface as soon as she answered. “He left your picture on top of Heather Linn’s body. A picture of you outside our offices, dated the day you left for Africa. Handler’s fingerprints are all over it.”

Jamie hadn’t known Heather well, but that didn’t matter. She was a fine agent and a nice woman. Damn, she’d gotten married recently. “Handler called me—just now. He told me he killed Heather.”

“Where are you?”

“At the JAG office. I just finished interviewing Chris Waldron.”

Chris, who’d walked through the lobby like a heat-seeking missile headed full force toward her and currently stood by her side, taking in every word.

She stared down at the pinpoints in the otherwise all gray carpet, in order to collect herself so she didn’t have to look into Chris’s eyes. “Where was Agent Linn killed?”

“Outside the train station—apparently, she got a tip that’s where Handler would be.”

The tipster was most likely Gary Handler himself, or someone he paid a quick buck to make the call for him.

“As a precaution, I’ve sent an agent to sweep your house and wire the outside with infrared and cameras. Bugged the phone lines. Kevin told me there were no prints, no forced entrance. We’ll get the bastard, but until we do, I’m putting some agents on your tail—Lyle Marcus and Paul Winston,” Lou continued.

She knew there was no way out of that one. And now, with even more proof positive that Gary Handler was gunning for her, this wasn’t the time for her to refuse. “Stay inside. I’ll send Lyle and Paul for you now. You’ll know more when they get there,” Lou said, and clicked off.

Chris was standing in front of her, practically body blocking her. Once she hung up, he simply said, “Tell me,” without taking his relentless gaze off the lobby.

She didn’t bother arguing, told him about Handler and his call. “He left me a message on the agent’s body. A photograph of me, outside my office. A recent one.”

Chris’s eyes finally met hers as he took her hand in his. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Agents are coming to escort me home. My house is being swept. It’s under control.”

“It’s not under control at all. And if you think I’m letting you go back home alone, you’re out of your fucking mind, Jamie.” He led her to a chair, and yes, sitting was good. “Did you eat today?”

She rolled her eyes at him but nodded yes.

“Where are your car keys?” he asked. She reached into her pocket and handed them to him, watched as he gently eased off the back portion, where the battery for the automatic lock was. Then he clipped the wires and she looked at him in surprise.

“You think there’s a bomb in my car?”

“I don’t know what the hell to think, but I’m not taking any chances,” he said, pulled out his phone and made a call. After a quick conversation, of which she only caught a few words, he told her, “Nick’s coming. Explosives are his specialty. I’d rather he check out your car first, then the FBI can have a go at it when they get here.”

Yes, there would be no harm in that. Especially if there was an explosive planted that could hurt innocent people in the parking lot.

She was so glad Chris was here. Glad she wasn’t alone. Her stomach grumbled and Chris gave her a look.

“You don’t need to worry about me constantly.”

“Don’t tell me what I need to do, Jamie. I’m always here for you. You know that. You might not see me, but if you need anything, you just call my name.”

His voice became a low growl as he spoke. It sent a jolt from her belly straight to her groin and she swore that if he said one more thing, she was going to kiss him right here, in the middle of the JAG lobby.

How he could take all concerns away in seconds like that, make her feel there were no problems to worry about, even as he stood completely on guard.

Nobody was getting past him. It was the most comforting thought she’d had in forever.