No Safe Haven (25 page)

". . . the helicopter came and took us here, then . . ." I spaced out, staring at the white curtain surrounding my bed.

"Andie?"

"Cole and Mom were talking. I overheard the last part of their conversation. Cole accused my dad of being one of the bad guys. That's why I was so mad. But . . ."

"But?"

"I don't know. I mean, he could have been telling the truth." I sighed. "I'm just trying to figure this out."

"It's okay." Zoya grabbed my hand. "I'll help you. And so will Dasha and Sasha, if we can find a way to get them inside the hospital."

"Dasha's here?" I smiled. My dog could cure just about anything.

"Between God, you, me and our
łic'aes,
we can do it."

I prayed she was right.

April 12

Providence Hospital

Anchorage, Alaska

9:01 a.m.

"So . . . how do you feel? I mean, you really had a rampage in there." Zoya's eyes glistened with tears.

"I feel fine. And I'm sorry. To tell you the truth, I don't even remember what I was thinking at the time. Everything just happened. All I really remember is being so angry. And . . ." Cole's worried, kind face popped into my head. I shook the memories away and fiddled with my hands.
Think about something else.
I couldn't look at Zoya; she'd see my doubt.

"It's okay, Andie. Just remember"—she grabbed my cold hands—"I'll always be right beside you, okay?"

"Thanks. You've always been there when I need you. You've been an awesome friend."

"Well, you've been awesome-er. I mean, awesome-
est.
"

I laughed.
God, thank You for Zoya.

"So, what's with that Cole guy? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Well . . ."
Good question.
"I don't know the—"

"Are you, Andie?"

Zoya and I jumped at the sound of a gruff voice, and we turned to look at the end of the bed. A tall man in scrubs stood with his hands clasped in front of him, staring at us as if we'd just pulled all the fire alarms in the building.

Where did you come from? And what kind of doctor are you?

He may have been wearing scrubs but I didn't see any badge-type-thing that all of the other staff wore. I stared. My stomach tied up in knots.
Uh, Cole? This would be a good time to come save the day.

The man's eyes were dark and held an air of authority. If he had been a lady, I was sure his name would be Cruella de Vil.

No, he looked more like the Grinch.

He cleared his throat and asked again. "Are you Andie?"

I looked at him from head to toe, and Zoya squeezed my shaking hand.
Well, who are you little mister appear-out-of-nowhere-I'm-in-charge-and-don't-you-dare-pull-all-the-fire-alarms?
His eyes narrowed.

Go ahead . . . if you can. I'm not scared, Grinch.

The curtain pulled back and Dr. Baker walked through.

As quickly as he had appeared, the Grinch was gone.

"Who was that? And . . . where's the nurse?" Dr. Baker's eyes narrowed and worry etched his face as he clutched his notebook, like he would bang it on the Grinch's head if he ever set foot in the hospital again.

Go Doc Baker!

He turned back to me. "Andie?"

I shook my head. "We don't know who he was."

Zoya's voice chimed in. "Whoever it was, he was
super
creepy!"

I shuddered as I remembered looking into his dark eyes.
God, please tell me he isn't another bad guy trying to kill us.

Doc walked over and looked toward the exit. "From what I saw he did look a little . . . scary."

I stared at the white curtains again.

"And evil."

COLE

April 12

Providence Hospital

Anchorage, Alaska

9:03 a.m.

Jenna's head snapped up. "Murdered?"

He watched her choke on the word and cast a glance at Anesia. "You mean, Marc's death wasn't an accident?"

Pain.

Her face filled with pain. And
he'd
put it there.

Cole raked his hand through his hair. How much to tell her. Hadn't he done enough already? Looking down at Jenna's expectant face, he saw the tears shimmering on her cheeks. The questions hovering on her lips. She'd trusted him. Fat lotta good it did her.

He moved away from the door and headed to the window. Couldn't bear to look into her eyes. This next part would be hard.

Cole took a deep breath and plunged into the story he'd hoped to never have to tell. "Marc e-mailed me the morning he died. Said we had to meet ASAP. Said his encrypted transmissions had been compromised, so there was no other choice but to give me the information in person." His heart sank in his chest remembering that fateful morning. His friend . . .

Shaking his head, he lifted his chin and continued. "We met at a coffee shop. Marc handed me a piece of paper, but said it was imperative to show me everything. And fast. The paper didn't make sense—some sort of hidden clues in the text,
protect with my heart
—but Marc and I climbed in his vehicle and he said he would explain. Was tired of carrying the burden around. As he gave me the details surrounding the threats against him—against you and Andie—he cried. I've never seen a man cry from his gut like that. Pouring out his regrets, wondering how he ever allowed it to go so far."

Cole stared out the window. Seeing Marc so broken began the thawing of his own icy heart. And now here Cole stood. Trying to fulfill a promise.

A promise he desperately wanted to carry out. But didn't think he could.

"Cole? Please . . ." Jenna choked on a sob. "Please continue."

The pleading in her voice just about did him in. He turned to face her. "He loved you both so much, Jenna. He was worried. Knew what they were capable of. That's when he made me promise. To protect you. Take care of you."

She wiped her face with tissues. Anesia stood with her arm around Jenna's shoulders, a scowl on her face.

"I promised him I would do everything in my power. We'd had it out several weeks prior. When I confronted him about what we were doing, how many lives were at stake, we actually got into a fight." His chuckle sounded sad and raw, even to his own ears. "Marc was a solid, tough man. He could've taken me out, but he stopped mid-swing. His face changed, and he just sat down. Shook his head. And then? Then, he had the gall to bring up his God. About how he knew better. And how I needed that God too."

Bitterness seeped into Cole's heart—and his words. "I asked him why, if his God cared so much about him and his family, had He let Marc venture down on this path? How could this hypothetical great God let his family be in danger? And why couldn't Marc trust Him?" Sarcasm spewed out. "Marc tried to convince me that he alone was responsible for his mistakes. That God gave him free will to do as he pleased. He sat there, a smile on his face, praising his God for forgiving him even though he'd done some really horrific junk."

"Cole—"

"Don't say it, Jenna. I didn't want to listen then, and I definitely don't want to listen to it now. I'm supposed to protect you and I can't do that with some fairy tale in my head—"

At Jenna's gasp, he knew he'd gone too far. But that didn't change things. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. After watching you and Andie . . . I understand a little better, but . . . never mind. That doesn't matter right now. Anyway, in Marc's car that morning, he talked about God again. And I wanted to run. Marc was scared. But also at peace. Something I'd never seen in anyone. Ever."

He stiffened his spine. Stood at attention. Time to just spit it out. "Marc had just put the car into drive. We were going to your house. He said he wanted to show me everything, call his contact at the FBI so we could meet. But I jumped out of the car. I'm not even sure why. I was angry. I needed time to think, couldn't take the anger churning in my gut. He yelled out the window to me. I told him I forgot something in my truck."

Cole struggled with his next words.
Suck it up, Maddox. She deserves to know the truth.
"I planned on going back, but the other vehicle came out of nowhere. By the time I turned around, it slammed into Marc's car. The explosion threw me off my feet."

He finally faced the woman who had captured his heart, but he could never have. "That bomb was meant for both of us."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

COLE

April 12

Providence Hospital

Anchorage, Alaska

9:08 a.m.

"Bomb? What are you talking about? Marc was killed by that car hitting his gas tank!" Jenna's voice was broken. Shrill. Angry.

"That's what the police report said, yes. But I was there. I knew. They wanted a quick and easy way to get rid of us."

"But . . . how do you know it wasn't an accident? How do you know it was a bomb?" Her eyes were desperate. She didn't want to believe the truth.

"Trust me. The bomb went off a full four seconds after the car crashed into Marc. It was rigged. It's what they do."

"So they killed him for this . . . this . . . AMI?"

"Yes."

"And it's not a woman?"

"No."

She trembled, tears streaming down her face. He had no idea the torture she'd endured all this time. Thinking her husband unfaithful. Now she dealt with the details of her husband's work all these years. And that he'd come close to betraying his own country.

"Advanced Missile Interceptor. That's what AMI stands for. Only it's not just a—"

"Jenna." Dr. Baker's voice broke into the room. "I've brought Andie back. Only nineteen stitches."

Cole moved away from Jenna's bed as the doctor came up to stand beside her. What would happen when they found out everything? What he'd done? What he'd been capable of doing?

"She lost a lot of blood, but she'll be just fine." The doctor looked around the room at each of the adults. When his gaze came to Cole's, the doctor frowned. "I've adjusted her medications, but let's try to keep her calm, shall we?"

"Thank you, Doctor." Jenna swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "Thanks for everything."

"I'll be back in a little bit." Dr. Baker left the room as the nurses wheeled Andie's bed back into position. Zoya followed.

Andie looked at him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry for trying to hit you, Cole."

His throat locked with emotion. Chloe's face swam in front of his mind. They were so much alike.

"I'm still mad at you, but I'm really sorry."

Cole couldn't stay a second longer. With long, determined strides, he left the room as fast as his legs could carry him.

ANDIE

9:17 a.m.

Cole hadn't said a word to me and I knew why. I did something I'd always feared doing: Taking out my anger on someone I loved. Someone I loved a lot.

A whole lot.

I hurt him in the worst way and knew it. Whether he deserved it or not didn't matter. I just wanted him back.

It's no use moping, Andie. You blew it.
Tears welled up inside my eyes as I remembered his shocked expression. We had come a long way in a short time. But I smashed all dreams of fun and joy with my stinkin' temper.

All because of me.

I turned to Mom. She had tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong?" Was she mad at me too?

Mom patted the bed, then wiped her tear-soggy face. I climbed up beside her, careful to not mess up my new IV.

"Andie?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"We need to talk."

My heart pounded in my chest. "Mom, I know what I did was wrong, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make Cole go away, honest! I was . . . I am just upset, and . . . and confused and I don't know who to trust—"

"Shh. Andie, calm down." Mom's hand wiped my wet cheeks. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" I sniffed.

"We need to talk about your dad." She tucked me into the crook of her arm and I snuggled up next to her.

"Andie, your dad's death wasn't an accident. He was in this group of bad men. At first they weren't bad. But they . . . lost their way and made some very bad decisions."

Something sparked in my brain. I didn't want to hear this. "Even Daddy?"

Tears slipped from Mom's eyes as she nodded. "But Daddy changed his mind. He decided to turn back and do the right thing, but . . . the bad men killed him. Those same men are the ones that are after us."

As the information sank in, I remembered Cole and Hank fighting, the helicopter, the explosion . . .

So Cole told the truth?

"North Korea is anxious to get the prototype . . ."

My eyes widened.
Is
that
what these weird people are after? Some sort of . . . prototype?
Was I supposed to tell Mom about what I heard? That Dad made me promise not to tell anyone?

What would it mean to break my promise? Would it be helpful or harmful? If I kept the promise for my dad, would that make me an accomplice? Would I go to jail? What would Mom think? What would happen to her and Dasha?

Daddy, why did you leave? Didn't you love us? Why did you go into that group of bad men? If you hadn't, you would still be here with me and Mom. You could have turned back to the good side! What's going to happen to Mom?

What would this do to her? What was happening that I couldn't see?

"Andie, what's going on in that head of yours?" Mom nudged me, but I buried my face in her shoulder and cried. I couldn't tell her.

What were you thinking, Daddy? What have you done?
I couldn't believe my dad had been one of the bad guys. What had gotten into his head? Had he been a bad guy from the beginning?

I can't believe I have a bad guy for a father. You betrayed us, Daddy. You were my hero, why did you throw everything away? Me and Mom and Dasha . . . and your life!

How many times had he laughed and played with me when he got home from work? How many times had he sat and watched
Little House on the Prairie
with me when I was sick with migraines? How many times had he tickled me, played Barbies with me, comforted me, put Band-Aids on my skinned knees?

He had been my hero.

How could he have done this to us? He betrayed Mom, put my heart into pure torture. Christians were supposed to be the good examples, not the bad ones. Then why go down such a bad path?