Redeem My Heart (21 page)

“You really need to install a better deadbolt. Seven tumblers is child’s play.”

Fallon’s weapon filled the palm of her hand as she spun around, pointing it center mass of the shadowy intruder by his third word. Ryland stood in her small dark kitchen, holding a glass of red wine in one hand and what appeared to be his whiskey in the other. What the hell did he do? Carry a bottle of the stuff around with him?

“You’re lucky I didn’t pull more than just the slack out of the trigger,” Fallon snapped, lowering her firearm, decocking the hammer, and securing it in her side holster. Multiple questions were now running through her mind and it appeared her filter was broken at the moment. “How did you get in here? No, don’t answer that. Where were you all day? I did a security scan from my office of the street where your condominium is located and the other agencies—from every country imaginable—have practically lined the streets awaiting your return. Did you ever think that this is exactly what E.D.A. wants? You, going out on your own without any back-up so that no one is around to witness your abduction. What makes you think you’d have any say in what they do to you now when you had zero ability to defend yourself against them at the age of eighteen when you were physically stronger? E.D.A. would then have the ability to use you any way they saw fit and then shred you like they would a file into a paper shredder. And what makes you think they don’t already know you’re here and that they may be warming up the wood chipper now?”

“Are you through? These hysterics need a buffer,” Ryland said when Fallon paused to take a breath, holding up the glass of wine. “Why don’t you take off your coat and join me for a drink while we discuss our work days. I think you’ll find mine very interesting. As for E.D.A. ascertaining my whereabouts…let’s just say that I created a diversion and they currently believe I’m flying in a Gulfstream G650 to Switzerland at this very moment.”

It was then that Fallon noticed his somber appearance and the fact that his eyes were rather glassy from what she would have said was physical pain, but there didn’t seem to be any visible wounds from this morning’s activities. She removed her dress coat and draped it over her purse on the side table before reaching for her wine, instantly noticing that he made sure their fingers didn’t touch as he released it into her grasp. She didn’t like this tentative side of him.

“How well did you know Supervisory Special Agent Sid Quaid?” Ryland asked, walking around the small island that separated the kitchen from the living room. That was when Fallon caught sight of paperwork strewn across her coffee table. She’d purchased it from a small boutique thrift store, liking the antique impression the cherry wood gave mixed in with the eclectic furniture styles she’d collected over the years. A part of her wished she could go back to that simpler time when designing her apartment was the only thing she worried about. Ryland was taking this conversation into a direction that made her nauseous. “Oh, I meant
do
you know. Or that of his superior Assistant Special Agent in Charge Doug Utley?”

“Are you somehow referring to whether I did or didn’t know if I could trust Quaid? I didn’t mean that in the context that you’re referring to, so much as I meant that he would have effectively taken me off of your case.” Fallon had worked under Quaid since she’d first set foot into the Washington D.C. Field Office. He’d also been one of her instructors at Quantico during her first phase of training there. “He’s an upstanding supervisor who backed my work when other agencies doubted the profiles I constructed.”

“And Utley?” Ryland didn’t take a seat but instead walked over to the wall where she had pictures of her family displayed. “What’s your opinion of him?”

Fallon changed her mind about the wine and set it down on the coffee table beside the files he’d been going through. She walked around and took a seat on the edge of the couch, scanning the documents. She now understood Ryland’s interest in both men.

“Special Agent Quaid had an aunt who’d been placed in a North Korean jail back in the sixties. His father, Senator Charles Quaid, was an influential man back during the Kennedy days,” Fallon concluded from what she was reading. Where had Ryland obtained these confidential FBI personnel files and all of their highly classified operations addendums? She had no ability to pull those of her own first or second line supervisors. Hell, viewing her own file would have taken fourteen days’ notice. Each report would have been heavily redacted to control agency review protocols, annual polygraph results, and performance characteristics. Even if she could have pulled their personnel files, she wouldn’t have because neither man had any association with Ryland during his initiation phase. That could only mean he’d remembered something. “Do you remember Quaid as part of your training? Can you recall if he was involved in your agency contracts on U.S. citizens back in the day? Do you think he took over E.D.A. after his father’s death? Was E.D.A. controlled and managed by the Bureau, the Agency, or both?”

Fallon opened the other folder without picking it up off of the table, scanning the background information on Utley and noticing the parallels. The only difference was that Utley’s uncle had distant family ties with a man who’d been a POW in Vietnam. She scoured for anyone with the amount of clearance needed to run such a platform back in the day, but she couldn’t find any links. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one. This information should be turned over to Crest as soon as possible. If anyone might be able to produce results from such an in-depth background report, it would be Taryn.

“I don’t know any of those answers yet,” Ryland replied in a voice that Fallon had to strain to hear. She took off her heels and then curled both feet underneath her as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. She’d had a hell of a day, but nowhere near experiencing the emotional turmoil he’d been put through. Psychological response conditioning usually incorporated some type of emotional deterrent prohibiting the subject from recalling the training regiment, effectively blocking out the subject’s memory of how they were programmed to perform any given task. She couldn’t imagine the negative effects he must be enduring to dredge up these details of his past. She rested her elbow on the back of the cushion, studying Utley’s profile. She’d already noticed that Ryland had lowered her blinds, preventing prying eyes from seeing them. “It’s not easy…recalling memories that I’m not even sure are real.”

This was the first time that Fallon had ever heard Ryland have reservations regarding his past. He took a drink from the tumbler in his hand and recognized that she’d been right from the very beginning. He was using alcohol as a way to self-medicate himself, but nothing could make what had transpired within the last few days disappear from his memory. This was the moment that she wished she’d called in a clinical psychologist, but she knew that would have only caused Ryland to resist further.

“What
do
you remember?” Fallon asked gently, hoping that Ryland would finally open up and talk to her. He was well aware that helping him was all she wanted, but that hadn’t been enough for him to spill his guts. What had caused him to think that one of her superiors could be behind such a sinister agenda? “You went after Jernigan because of something you recalled. What was it?”

“His name,” Ryland divulged, draining his glass before crossing the floor to the island. He set the crystal glass down on her counter and reached for the elegant blue and amber bottle he must have brought with him. “It was mentioned at some point, but I get a sharp headache every time I try to recall more. I remember seeing his face, but then everything goes black.”

Fallon didn’t have to tell him that it was due to the conditioning that had taken place during the drug regimen. The mind was very easily manipulated, especially when pharmaceuticals were used to reduce the subject’s ability to resist. It was a matter of breaking down those barriers with time, patience, and determination. Ryland had all but time on his side, so it was only a matter of evading the enemy until the dam burst.

“What else?” Fallon carefully pressed for more.

“Images. Voices.” Ryland walked back over and took a seat in the chair catty-corner from where Fallon sat on the couch. He crossed his legs and stared into the brown smooth liquid that hadn’t done the job he’d wanted it to. “I look back at my childhood and it doesn’t feel any different than the man I am now. I think about the first contract I took and I have to tell you, Fallon…it was a high for me—an immense measure of personal satisfaction. To know that I was contributing to our country’s security by eliminating a threat is very addictive…even at the expense of innocent individuals. Other governments had their fingers in the mix as well, but the vast majority of them were our allies and their motives always aligned with ours no matter who ordered the hit.”

“You were doing the job they’d trained you for,” Fallon agreed, cringing that she’d come to accept that so easily. In a manner of speaking, it was no different than what our country asks of our military service members. “In essence, you thought were protecting our freedoms. Unfortunately, the directives came from corrupt men and women who had political agendas that often conflicted with the very ideals you were fighting for. You didn’t know that at the time, but now you do.”

“And if I tell you that I enjoyed being the most sought after assassin?” Ryland asked, finally raising his dark brown eyes to meet hers. It wasn’t acceptance he was seeking. “There is no denying now that they used me, however demeaning that may be. I was able to be manipulated because of my propensity to forgo my moral compass when I needed to.”

“Your moral compass was manipulated in the most invasive way imaginable,” Fallon pressed, hoping that he would grasp the significance of what he’d been through. “You fought for your country. You kept promises that you made to your sister, regardless that it was a risk to your professional career. You maintained financial responsibility for a housekeeper that had been more like a mother to you than a nanny. It wasn’t a far stretch for E.D.A. to transform you into the killing machine they needed…all they had to get you to believe was that you were doing it for their morally skewed reasons and reward that behavior psychologically.”

“And the countless innocent victims?” Ryland asked, almost as if he were trying to drive Fallon away. He paused long enough to take another drink, pressing the side of his hand to his mouth when he swallowed. “I did what needed to be done in many instances, regardless of the collateral sacrifices that needed to be made.”

“The perfect soldier,” Fallon said in agreement, needing to clarify her opinion. “Yes, you took the lives of innocent people when they stood in the way of you completing your assignment. Our government does that every day to ensure our freedom on a much larger scale. It’s part of war and while E.D.A.’s actions weren’t as honorable as our military during their increasingly public combat sorties, you still maintained the training and saw through your missions to the end. Tell me, what do you miss the most? The killing or the satisfaction of a job well done?”

Fallon held her breath, waiting for his response. She refused to have Ryland see the fear she had welling inside of her chest while he considered her inquiry. It felt as if an hour had passed before he spoke instead of the thirty seconds it was.

“I miss the hunt,” Ryland confessed, leaning forward and setting his glass on one of the papers strewn about. “I miss the tactical maneuvering it took to best realize the task at hand…the intellect it took to succeed in complicated scenarios. It was satisfying and relaxing at the same time. It was what that glass of liquor used to do and now fails to do.”

The relief poured over Fallon at Ryland’s admission. He’d said this as Ryland, not Travis. He’d eventually gain more of his memories, but he was correct in saying previously that two men would blend together to create a different multi-faceted version of the other. What she needed him to believe was that it was okay to be slightly different than he was used to being. She unfolded herself from her position on the couch and stepped between him and the coffee table. She sank to her knees and tried not to wince when he leaned back in the chair, away from her touch.

“We will get through this,” Fallon assured him, resting her hands on his knees in comfort. It wasn’t what he was looking for, but she gave of herself all the same. “But not if you keep going off on your own. We need to pool our resources together if we stand a chance of bringing down E.D.A. before they get their hands on you or they eventually decide that the attention you’re drawing to their organization needs to be eliminated.”

“You want someone else,” Ryland said softly and almost regrettably. It was as if he’d already made up his mind. Fallon refused to believe they’d come this far only for it to be for naught. “This attraction…it was supposed to be nothing more than a distraction—a brief affair to get it out of both our systems. I can see in your eyes that you long for more and I’m not capable of that.”

“Have I asked you for anything?” Fallon slowly took off her suit jacket and then gradually unfastened the buttons on her blouse one by one. The dark brown of Ryland’s eyes practically flashed gold as she slid the soft material over her shoulders. “I’ve demanded nothing from you except your cooperation in this investigation. Personally? I expect to be treated with some measure of respect and not left tied to a bed for hours without the appropriate reward for my submission.”

“Hours?” Ryland asked with a lift of his lips. He settled back against the cushion before calling Fallon out on her exaggeration. She expected nothing less and appreciated this turn of events, if only for a few hours. The morning would come soon enough, and with it more questions than answers until he agreed it was time to clue in Crest concerning the two figures that were now their immediate focus. “I’m wagering that Taryn had you untied within twenty-five minutes. She was, after all, on the other side of the lake in the small glen inside the hunting cabin.”

Fallon wasn’t going to ask how Ryland knew all of that information when she hadn’t even been aware of what CSA team member had taken orders from Crest to watch over the main house. She had no idea what would happen come tomorrow, but they had tonight. She would make it count.