Along Came a Husband (14 page)

“I have some packages delayed in customs. I have no doubt you could streamline the process.”

“That’s not part of our deal.”

“It is now.”

Now that Abel was causing trouble. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. I will have someone call you later tonight with the details.”

The moment his cell line went dead, Mason’s office phone rang. The display showed the reception area, and he put the call on speaker. “Yes?”

“Senator Arthur Camden is here to see you.”

What the…?
Mason sat at his desk. The chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee wanted to see him. Why? This couldn’t be good. “Tell him I’m out of the office. Tell him I’ll call—”

“He’s already headed—”

Mason’s office door burst open and Senator Camden, dressed impeccably in a black designer suit, heavily starched white shirt and striped blue tie stepped into his office. “We were briefed yesterday on your fiasco in Chicago.”

Mason hung up the phone and came around his desk. “I’m not sure I’d call it a fiasco—”

“What would you call one undercover agent confirmed dead and the other taking bribes?” The senator paced. “A tea party?”

“Sir, I—”

“Have you found Abel?”

“Not yet, but we’re working on it.”

“What makes you think he’s turned?”

“He took all the evidence with him and he hasn’t called in. I’d say the writing is on the wall.”

“Has he left the country?”

“We don’t believe so.”

“I have a personal interest in this case.” Camden walked to the window looking out over Pennsylvania Avenue. “Jonas Abel is married to my daughter.”

Holy shit.

“Melissa is estranged from the family and my wife would very much like to find her.” He spun around and leveled his gaze at Mason. “The very second you locate Special Agent Abel, I want to be informed.”

“Yes, sir.”

The senator stalked out of Mason’s office as quickly as he’d come. Mason shut the door and immediately dialed a number on his phone. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“I don’t want to play guessing games with you, Mason.”

“Her last name’s Camden. As in the Long Island Camdens.” Stein transferred the phone to his other ear. “As in Senator Arthur Camden’s daughter.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?”

“I figured it out when I pulled their marriage certificate to find her maiden name and social. She’s the one who cut off all ties with the family.”

“That explains the name changes, the moves,” Stein said. “Have you tracked her down?”

“Not yet. Without a legitimate warrant, I can’t track any of the financial info. And the usual underground sources got nothing on her. Her attorneys have roadblocks up in every direction. It hasn’t helped that she pretty much zigzagged cross-country and then backtracked. I lost her in Milwaukee, but we’re closing in on her.”

“I’ll see what I can do from my end.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have her nailed down in a day or two.”

Not long after dark, she went to bed. A short while afterward, as if he’d been waiting for an all-clear, she’d heard Jonas come inside and head straight upstairs. Presumably, he’d fallen asleep, but he was not resting at all peacefully. A few hours later, she’d awoken to the sounds of him yelling.

“This is wrong,” he called out. “Son of a bitch!” From English to Spanish and back again, his dialogue in his dreams bounced back and forth like a Ping-Pong ball. “Matthews, get down!”

Apparently, he was reliving the ambush where he’d gotten shot. He’d done this from time to time when they’d been married. While he was awake he’d analyze his cases, take them apart piece by piece to make sure he hadn’t made any mistakes, to see where he could improve. Sleep only brought on another level of analysis.

Most often he’d only talked in his sleep, usually not more than a word or two, a sentence at most. A few times, he’d actually thrashed about, carrying on for long periods in this same type of frenzied, chaotic state.

Back then she’d tried everything to get him to quiet down. Waking him hadn’t worked. As soon as he’d fallen back asleep, he’d start at it again. She’d tried earplugs and moving to another room. He’d been too loud. There’d been only one thing that had calmed him, only one thing had helped them both fall back to restful sleep. She’d snuggled against his backside. Only her touch had relaxed him.

Jonas groaned loudly. Quieted for a few minutes, though she could hear him tossing about, and then started up all over again.

She glanced at the clock. Two. She’d gotten, at best, a couple hours of sleep and had to be up and about in a little more than four hours, and Jonas had given no indication he’d settle down any time soon. She didn’t have earplugs, and a pillow hadn’t worked to block the noise. There was only one thing she could think to do. While it didn’t sit well, it seemed her only option. Besides, she’d decided she’d no longer avoid him.

Throwing back the covers, she climbed the stairs and snuck quietly into Jonas’s room. He was on his back, tossing his head back and forth and muttering to himself. The last thing she wanted to do was place her hands on his body. From the first to the last, every time she’d ever touched this man, her body had gone crazy with need. She was asking for trouble simply being in a bedroom with him, thinking this way, feeling this way.

Nonsense. You were only twenty-three when you met him. You had no self-control back then. Things can be different today.

She took a deep breath, slipped her hands under his covers and slowly placed her palms over the tops of his ankles. He was warm. She was warmer. The coarse hair on his legs tickled her fingers, sending a zap of awareness up her arms and she almost pulled away. In order for this to work, though, she had to clear her own mind.

He wields no more power over you. You are in complete control. You can help him, give to him, without losing a piece of yourself.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed her arms, let her hands lay heavy on his ankles and focused on calming him. Once he relaxed, she could possibly find and clear his energy, helping him heal, helping him rest.

Jonas. Settle. Find the peace in your heart.

Watching. They had to be watching, but who were
they?
What were they waiting for? He could feel their eyes on him. Behind him. Over him. Almost as if they were inside him.

Out of breath, he stopped and yelled, “Who the hell are you?” Then he spun around and fired several rounds into the air, at nothing and everything at once. He paused to listen and catch his breath.

Suddenly, as if he’d stepped into a hot pool, warmth enveloped his ankles. The warmest touch he’d ever known. Gently. Softly. Hands held him. Deep, bone-melting heat traveled up his legs. Suffused him with a sense of calm. As if he’d become a slow, lazy river, his breathing slowed.

How could this be? He never—

Missy. She was touching him. It had to be her. Jonas hovered between the states of sleep and awareness. Half of him felt almost tormented by the knowledge she’d place her hands on him. The other half desired nothing less than to sink into the oblivion of her sweet touch.

Infinitely slowly, with the kind of patience Jonas never had, never would possess, her hands moved over him. Her heat transmitted deep into the marrow of his bones, and a sense of relaxation like nothing he’d ever felt wrapped Jonas in a cocoon. She moved from his ankles to his knees. Then to his hips and ribs. All over him at once as if she had eight arms.

“What are you doing?” he whispered before he felt sure he’d relax to the point of losing all ability to speak.

She pulled away. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but don’t stop.” He kept his eyes firmly closed. “Please.”

Hesitantly, her fingers rested on his forehead, hot and heavy on his cool skin. “It’s called Healing Touch. Clears and balances your energy. Helps you heal faster.”

“Chakras shit?” he murmured.

“Yes.”

“When did you learn to do this?” he asked, almost slurring his words.

“Over the years.” Her touch grew stronger, more assured. “It’s been an interest of mine.”

Didn’t surprise him. Her hands always had worked magic on him. Lots of magic. His thoughts tracked to the other night and all he could think of was how she’d come alive in his arms. Her hands moved to his chest and his pulse raced. His mouth turned dry. He couldn’t swallow.

That’s when he felt it, the subtle change in sensation. Her fingertips curled into him, her nails nearly bit into his skin. Suddenly there was nothing healing about her touch. This was an outright jolt of raw, sexual heat, coursing through him like a drug.

No. Not again.
He grabbed her wrist and snapped open his eyes. “I’m going to guess my chakras are just fine now.”

Her eyes were heavy-lidded. Her breath came in short pants. She pulled against his grip on her wrists.

“Tell me something,” he murmured.

She stared at him, distrust sparking in her eyes.

“That night we met at that bar in Quantico, what did you see in my hands?”

For a long moment, she said nothing. He’d almost given up on an answer when she whispered, “Your love line. Looks exactly like mine. One true love in your life.”

“That’s bullshit. There’s no such thing as love, Missy. We had sex. Great sex. Amazing sex. But still just sex. It’s not the kind of thing real people build lasting relationships around.”

“If you say so.”

He didn’t just say so. He knew so. They’d failed, hadn’t they? “Then why file for a divorce? Sounds like a damned easy way out to me.”

“Staging your death wasn’t?”

He released her and looked away. “I need to get back to sleep.”

“You do that, Jonas,” she said, heading toward the door, “While you’re at it, keep telling yourself that our marriage failing was entirely my fault.”

No, he wasn’t fool enough to tell himself that. Not anymore. “Missy?”

She paused on her way out of the room.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Emotions seemed to overwhelm him. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For the…healing massage.” As she went back downstairs, he knew there’d be no more nightmares tonight because he wouldn’t be falling back to sleep.

What had she been thinking last night? Putting her hands all over him? Healing touch or not, she’d been out of line. Delirious from lack of sleep. That had to be it. But he’d sure felt good. Amazing contradictions of hard and soft, hairy and smooth. Warm. No. Hot.

She sucked in a quick breath and tried to eradicate from her mind the remembered image of his hand on her wrist. She’d always loved his fingers, the way his dark hair traveled up the back of his hand. Damn. Then again, her problems most likely had nothing to do with blockage of energy. Her entire life was a mess. Jonas. Sarah. Her family.

Marin. A long forgotten memory about her sister poked at Missy. Throughout much of their elementary years, Marin, despite the fact that she was older, often crept quietly into bed with Missy on Sunday nights. Missy had never said a word. Her sister hated going to their strict private school, and Mondays were the worst. Missy smiled, sadly, wondering if her sister still dreaded Monday mornings, or if she was happy in her job, her life.

It was time to tackle one more issue. Abruptly, she dialed a number she’d kept stored but unused on her cell phone all these years.

“Rutherford and Barker,” a receptionist said, answering.

Missy couldn’t breathe.

“Hello? Anyone there?” the woman said.

“Um.” She swallowed. “Is…Marin Camden in?”

“One moment, please.”

Without any transfer noises, the sounds of soft classical music played over the line, letting Missy know she’d been placed on hold. She looked out her window, took a deep breath and made herself wait.

“This is Ms. Camden’s office,” said, most likely, a personal assistant. “She’s in a meeting with clients at the moment, may I take a message?”

“This is Marin’s sister, Melissa…Camden. Could you please—”

“Excuse me, did you say
sister? Melissa?”

“Yes.”

“Hold, please.”

That was weird.
The classical music came back online while Missy waited. And waited. Her hands may have finally stopped shaking, but now she was getting supremely irritated.

Suddenly the music clicked off and a long moment of silence hung on the line. Then, tentatively, a voice whispered, “Melissa?”

“Marin, is that you?”

“Holy freaking shit! It’s really you.”

Missy laughed. “Sounds like it’s really you, too.”

Marin was to Missy as night to day. Marin swore, sweat and walked around with a chip on her shoulder the size of a Lake Superior boulder. Missy never had found common ground with her sister, one of the few people on this earth with whom Missy should’ve been able to connect.

“I don’t believe it,” Marin said. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Neither did Missy it’d been so many years.

“Where are you?” Marin finally asked.

Missy hesitated. The one question she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer, but she hadn’t thought to block her number, so it wouldn’t take much for someone as resourceful as a Camden to locate Missy. “Don’t tell Dad, okay? I’m on Mirabelle Island, Wisconsin. I’ve been here for about two years.”

“And this is the first time you bother to call and touch base?” Marin asked, the tone of her voice laced with a definite note of challenge if not hurt feelings.

“I guess I didn’t think anyone would care—”

“Not care? You don’t get it, do you?”

“I didn’t ask to be born a Camden.”

“Well, you were, so get over it. Do you have any idea how many tears Mom has shed over your immature and incredibly selfish disappearance? Maybe you should be calling her first. Maybe I just don’t give a shit. Maybe…”

Missy didn’t know what to say.

“You know, for the first couple of months after you disappeared, everyone pretended you’d show up. Eventually. Then the holidays rolled around and no phone call, no letter. Nothing to let any one of us know you were still even alive.”

Missy probably
had
only thought of her side of this equation. “I’m sorry, Marin. Honestly, I never thought me disappearing would make a difference to you, Max or Art. Dad, I don’t care about. And Mom? I guess I didn’t want to think about her.”

“Well, that sounds all very well and convenient. Good for you, Mel.”

The use of the childhood nickname after all these years felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe she had been more connected to her siblings than she’d realized. “This was…difficult…to call you.”

No sound. Nothing.

“Marin?”

“You know what? Maybe you being out of my life wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

Click.

Her sister had hung up and Missy couldn’t think of a reason why she had a right to feel the slightest bit indignant.