Redeem My Heart (13 page)

“Where to, my little savior?”

Chapter Ten

T
wenty hours. That’s how long it took for Fallon and Ryland to make it to northern Minnesota. They’d used a variety of means to reach their destination—boat, bus, private plane, and finally a rental car out of Duluth International. And it was all courtesy of Taryn’s online scheduling. All they had to do was sign for Mrs. Garcia’s reservations using Fallon’s counterfeit identification. She’d assumed that they managed to get themselves this far without being detected by whoever was orchestrating the revival efforts for the E.D.A. operation. Crest guaranteed that no one knew of his private sanctuary that he and Jessie used to get away, that it would be impossible to link the property to him through any type of comprehensive data search. The property was actually titled by a dummy corporation ultimately owned by the Reformation Women’s Shelter, whose board was entirely fictitious with the exception of Elle as the CEO. It was by far the safest place to conceal Ryland. Fallon understood how gut-wrenching it must have been for Crest to offer it up. It would no longer be strictly their own exclusive retreat after this.

Fallon pulled up the lane and then shifted the rental car’s automatic transmission into park, leaning her head back against the headrest in utter exhaustion. She glanced over at Ryland, who was staring straight ahead at the most picturesque log cabin one could ever imagine, sitting on a small private lake that was a sheet of glass encompassed by a wooded shoreline climbing up to the surrounding steep valley walls. Crest never did anything half-assed, and this property was no exception.

The house was located on the edge of the lake with a long jutting pier suspended above the dark water as if hanging in space. A light coating of snow blanketed the region with whiffs of fog hanging just over the water, giving it the appearance that they were staring at a painting. Dusk had set, but there was barely enough sunlight left to see the area clearly. The landscape lighting accentuated the first and second story, along with what appeared to be a daylight basement facing the lakeside deck rolling into the pier and a boathouse. The first story walls seemed to be made entirely of glass surrounded by a massive log frame. Multiple French doors granted access on all sides.

“Some wraparound porch, huh?” Fallon feebly offered up, wishing that Ryland hadn’t shut himself down. The trip had been made in relative silence, the two of them only speaking when necessary. He’d appeared to handle the realization that E.D.A. had indeed been reinstated and willing to go to extreme lengths to get him back into the fold, but now she wasn’t so sure. She studied his side profile, taking in the tightening of his jaw and steady rhythmic pulse on the side of his neck. He appeared calm, but looks in this case were undeniably deceiving. “It appears to go all the way around.”

“I have a method to reach Dane Moza,” Ryland proclaimed as he were talking about the weather, taking Fallon by surprise. She straightened as the tension that had never faded from last night made itself known once again. Her heartbeat accelerated at the mere thought that Ryland was now offering his help, but at what cost? “I’ll start the process.”

Fallon almost asked what that procedure might entail before she stopped herself. She took the keys out of the ignition and palmed them. It was better she didn’t know the specifics, but she
would
be with him during any face-to-face meetings he might need to have. Neither one of them would be able to do anything until then or at least until they heard from Crest. She’d been able to check in and the information he’d given her so far hadn’t been of any use. Essentially, Crest’s team had suffered little damage while the infiltrators that were on the estate’s grounds during the raid had been effectively neutralized. Jax had been grazed in the arm and Townes apparently was in need of a new vehicle. Crest had to call in help from a friend of his by the name of Schultz Jessalyn, who had been able to arrange for a Cleaner without any questions asked. A Cleaner was a slang term for a crew of individuals who removed any evidence of the bodies that were
Tango Uniform
or
Tits Up
without anyone being the wiser. It must be nice to have those types of contacts on speed dial when you needed them.

“We should go inside and disable the perimeter alarm before it reports us,” Fallon said softly, pointing out that they shouldn’t be exposed like they were. It didn’t appear that anyone was around, but that didn’t mean they were completely safe, especially nowadays. Satellites could be used in many different ways if the right people were employed. “We can—”

“The room is small and dark.” Ryland turned his head so fast that Fallon startled, causing the keys in her hand to slightly jingle. The tormented look on his face caused her heart to break, but she couldn’t reach out for him for fear he might recoil back inside himself. She was certain he would only pull away, so she tightened her grip on the keys. “I’m sweating, the heat is unbearable, and I’m craving what only they can give provide. A shadow walks into the room with a syringe in his hand…and then nothing. I always wake up. Each night reveals a tiny fragment more of the puzzle, but never enough to completely understand.”

Fallon inhaled deeply and as quietly as she could, not wanting to give Ryland a reason to stop talking. He was finally admitting what she’d suspected all along, but they still had a long, long way to go. She worded her thoughts very carefully.

“You might experience lapses of memory when recalling the past, but what you’re experiencing is typical of drug augmented behavioral conditioning.” Fallon watched him for any signs that what she was saying might be true. She thinned her lips when he looked away from her and settled his fingers over the door handle. “From what I’ve researched, the subject’s ability to resist conditioning is reduced with drugs such as sodium thiopental and pentobarbital. It’s often said that over time, he or she can suffer setbacks should something emotionally or physically severely interfere with said conditioning.”

“I’m no one’s fucking
subject
, Fallon.” Ryland yanked the handle and then shoved the door flying open with his shoulder. He didn’t stop to finish whatever he was going to say like he had when they’d arrived at her family’s home. Crest had assured her that he’d taken care of the caretakers, using some military training exercise as an excuse. She heard the knock on the trunk, indicating that Ryland wanted access to the few bags they’d brought with them, along with the clothing items they’d purchased a couple of hours ago while traveling to Crest’s rustic hideaway. She pressed the button and then opened the driver’s side door, only to find him standing there. He smiled and offered her his hand as if nothing at all had just transpired. His outward emotional state had flipped one hundred and eight degrees in mere seconds. “Let’s get you inside.”

“You’re now acting a bit too at ease for me to feel comfortable, considering what you just disclosed,” Fallon responded, giving him her fingers and standing within an inch of him. She raised her eyes, taking in the haunted look he couldn’t quite get rid of while at the same time appearing to have regained his composure. It was an odd amalgamation, which left her feeling like he’d made a decision that wasn’t going to end well for any of them. “I won’t allow you to do anything to jeopardize the progress we’ve made by making contact with Dane Moza. Let Taryn take care of pinpointing him. You can help by providing CSA with your contact information.”

“Allow me?” Ryland placed his hands on the roof of the vehicle, trapping her against the cold metal. The warmth of his body made quite the contradiction. His dark eyes practically glowed a golden hue as he warned her of crossing his personal barriers. It was really too bad, considering she was going to do it more often now that he’d finally admitted to the night terrors he was experiencing as a direct result of the Agency’s black bag operation. “That’s a relatively powerful word you’re using, Fallon, considering your position.”

“You don’t scare me anymore,” Fallon whispered, the keys digging into her palm as she tightened her grip.

“I should, if you had any perspective at all.”

And just like that, Fallon could breathe again. Ryland stepped back and then retraced his steps to the trunk. He pulled out their bags, slinging two over his shoulder and then carrying the rest. She started for the house, shaking off the arousal he’d raised in her with their most recent intimate exchange. Once again, she was left wondering if she had a death wish or just an unhealthy desire to be intimidated by his close physical presence.

Upon reaching the front entrance, Fallon’s mind began functioning again and forming somewhat coherent thoughts. The first thing she noticed was that the front windows weren’t made of glass the way she’d originally believed. It appeared to be two-inch thick panes of aluminum oxynitride known as ALON, which was a ceramic material or possibly Lexan—a polycarbonate material—both of which would prevent most types of rifle ammunition from penetrating. She pressed the correct key combination that Crest had provided her, making her once again wonder why he would allow his personal nemesis access to such a private domain.

“He’ll probably burn this place to the ground after I take my leave,” Ryland said wryly as if he’d read her mind. Fallon was finally able to pop open the door, finding that the inside was even more glorious than the view from the outside if that were even possible. “Such a waste.”

Wooden finished interior framing was visible, and it was made out of solid red oak logs if Fallon had to guess. The knots, color, and texture of the wood brought the place alive in a welcoming way. There was a fireplace made up entirely of river rock, and the central point appeared to enclose a special antique window glass that permitted one to see a room on the other side through the slight wavy imperfections. It was the one room that Crest had specifically asked to be kept off limits.

“There are guest bedrooms upstairs,” Fallon said, pointing in the opposite direction. She tried not to think about the fact that he’d placed his luggage inside her closet when they’d been at her family home. “Would you please store our bags up there while I make us something to eat?”

“I’ll be back shortly then,” Ryland replied a little too easily.

Fallon warily observed his departure, wondering why he appeared to desire some privacy. He took the wooden staircase, disappearing from view. She came very close to following him, thinking he might be using the time alone to secretly communicate with someone, but then decided against it. He had the skillset to notice that she hadn’t remained downstairs and she wasn’t ready to confront him about whatever it was he was up to. Crest was currently securing people in order to protect this area without drawing attention to them, so it wasn’t as if Ryland could do anything undetected. She could use a little time to herself anyway.

“We’re here,” Fallon said softly into the encrypted satellite phone Crest had given her prior to their departure. She’d stored it into her bag yesterday morning, not thinking she’d need to use it quite so soon. “Is the security team in place?”

“Absolutely.” Crest appeared to hedge, letting Fallon know that most likely something else had taken place while she and Ryland had been on the road. She braced herself as best she could within her available reserves and it still wasn’t enough. “Agent Ray Grahn was in a car accident last night. He’s currently in ICU at Bethesda. It’s unlikely he’ll ever regain consciousness.”

Fallon had walked over to the vast picture window that overlooked the lake and she rested her forehead against the cool surface. Crest’s tone indicated that the accident had been anything but accidental. She’d been so caught up in proving that E.D.A. was the responsible party for the numerous assassinations of late that she’d let common sense slide away. In particular, a group of prominent figures had been murdered utilizing conditioned men and women as assassins, but she hadn’t thought to investigate this like she would any other case she’d been assigned. She needed to profile the organization, as well as those that might be in charge and what their motivations might be.

“Where do we go from here? Agent Jernigan retired years ago. I know he still works as a consultant, but he’s got to be outside the loop on this type of operation.” Fallon recalled what she’d read in Jernigan’s file, having looked into Agent Grahn’s prior supervisor before everything went to hell. “Is there a way to bring him in without—”