Reckoning for the Dead (3 page)

Two hours later

Norma's Restaurant in Midtown West was packed. Bright and bustling, the place had high ceilings, wood paneling, and faux-silver-edged tables that gave a modern yet comfortable feel. It was a popular café for breakfast and lunch, located in the Le Parker Meridien Hotel lobby. Norma's was too expensive and trendy for Jessie's taste, but Alexa knew her partner had suggested it for her sake. Being a former bounty hunter, Jessie had dealt with the dregs of humanity and would have been satisfied with any hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon.

When Alexa arrived, she noticed that Jessie had gotten there early and scored a table, a small carafe of coffee, and two shot glasses of the restaurant's complimentary smoothie du jour. After her partner waved her over, it didn't take Alexa long to notice the carry-on luggage under the table.

“Planning on staying the week? The blueberry pancakes are good, but come on,” she joked to cover up her surprise . . . and disappointment.

“I'm on my way to the airport, heading for Chicago. Something personal has come up.” Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, Jessie leaned across the table. “I know this is short notice, but I don't have a choice.”

Alexa narrowed her eyes and dropped her smile. “Anything I can do?”

“No, nothing.” Jessie shook her head. “I've got it covered.”

Jessie had hesitated, enough to tell Alexa her trip to Chicago wouldn't be for pleasure.

“And I'm guessing you probably don't want to talk about it.”

“Bingo.” Jessie grabbed her coffee cup and hid behind it.

Her partner was a woman with secrets, and Alexa respected her privacy. The scar over Jessie's eyebrow had a story behind it, one Alexa had never been privileged to hear. Even though not too long ago, Alexa had gotten a glimpse into something Jessie had barely survived as a child, her partner had never confided in her, and she hadn't pushed.

And Alexa also guessed that Jessie had feelings for the computer genius, Seth Harper. Maybe her trip had something to do with him. The guy was a new recruit for the Sentinels, but he'd opted to stay in Chicago rather than move to New York, so he could stick close to his mentally deteriorating father, who lived in a nursing home. Those had been her first thoughts about Jessie's trip; but with her partner, she might never know for sure.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked. “I mean, in case something comes up.”

“Maybe a few days. Not long.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Will you call me if you need anything?”

“Yeah . . . I'll do that. So what's good here?” When Jessie flipped open her menu, her eyes grew wide. “Oh, my God! They have a lobster-and-caviar omelet for a thousand smackers. Who the hell are they kidding? That's just . . . insane.”

As fast as Jessie stuck her nose in the menu and changed the subject, Alexa knew her partner would never take her up on her offer. Jessie had a tough, independent streak. It was one of the things she liked most about her, but sometimes that made it hard for anyone to get inside. As a partner and a friend, Jessie was an acquired taste.

But with Jessie going out of town—completely distracted by her personal agenda—Alexa knew she'd be working with Tanya alone. Once her partner got back and could focus, Alexa might ask for her help, but for now, Jessie was out of it. And there was no sense telling her anything about Garrett. Jessie had enough going on in her life without adding the guilt trip of leaving her in the lurch—because that was exactly how Jessie's mind worked. She'd feel guilty over something she'd have no control over.

As if she'd read Alexa's mind, Jessie looked up from her menu, and said, “You look tired. You getting enough z's?”

Alexa ran a hand through her blond hair and heaved a sigh as she propped her elbows on the table.

“I'd be doing better if you'd dose me up.” She forced a smile as she shoved over her empty cup. “Pour me some coffee, will ya?”

While her partner filled her cup, Alexa turned her thoughts to Garrett. Something was terribly wrong. As an experienced operative, she sensed it in her bones, especially after talking to Tanya and hearing that Garrett's top analyst hadn't heard from him either. That clinched it. She had to do something.

When they were together, Garrett had been an attentive and aggressive lover and quickly become her obsession after she'd come off the high of her near miss with fellow operative Jackson Kinkaid. Her one-sided feelings for Jackson had been tough to let go. They had chemistry, no doubt, but she needed more than he had to give. And, after working with him on a hostage-rescue mission in Cuba not too long ago, the emotional roller-coaster ride with him had not changed for her. She still had it bad, especially after Jackson told her why he'd kept her at a distance.

There had been another woman. A dead one.

Jackson was still deeply connected to his murdered wife and the child he had lost. He had nothing to give her, or anyone. He'd changed. He wasn't the same man she had known years before. It broke her heart to walk away from him after the Cuban op, but she had to. Forcing Jackson to deal with his grief before he was ready to let go wouldn't have been good. He would always resent her for it. And that was no way to live, for either of them.

After she'd first met Kinkaid years before, Garrett had been a rebound fling for her, but he'd been a distraction she needed at the time. He had unleashed her insatiable need and been a much-needed diversion after the pent-up feelings she had for Jackson. And even though the urgent passion she had with her boss, Garrett Wheeler, had run its course, she still cared for him deeply. She owed him more than her unflinching loyalty.

Where are you, Garrett?

Somewhere in Mexico

“Is it . . .”

“Is it . . .”

“ . . . him?”

A woman's voice echoed in his head and filtered through the fog in his brain. Her words overlapped like undulating ripples across still water, mixed with the faint distant echo of a child's laughter. The sounds nudged his faltering consciousness or tapped into a sliver of memory. He didn't know which, nor did he care. He had to concentrate to hear anything at all. He didn't know where he was or how he got there. In this place, he had no past, no future, and barely remembered his own name. Yet in his shadowy existence, he felt certain that he was completely deserving of whatever fate had in store.

When he felt a cool velvet touch on his fevered cheek, he heard a moan, unsure if the sound came from him. He forced his eyes open a crack and caught a glimpse of light. Shadows eclipsed a dim glow, but he was too weak to move. With the drug still so strong in his system, he wavered on the razor's edge of darkness and took the only comfort he could. He imagined the woman's voice he had heard morphing into a more familiar sultry one and pictured running his fingers through a soft tumble of blond strands as he gazed into pale blue eyes.

His lover's throaty voice stirred him, and her haunting eyes lingered, along with a trace of her perfume. He felt her kiss and her whisper in his ear as she trailed a finger down the bare skin of his chest and onto his stomach. Her touch made him flinch, and his body reacted.

He wanted her. He needed her. And when he willed the beautiful woman to stay—
she did.

Chapter 2

New York City

A
fter breakfast, Alexa arrived at the Sentinels' headquarters and went through the high-tech security measures to access the elevator that would take her to the belowground stronghold. Running on autopilot, she had her mind on Garrett as she headed for Tanya's office and walked through the massive computer area, where analysts manned global surveillance systems.

Black walls encircled the room, and the overhead lights were purposefully dim, so computer jockeys could better see the array of colors on their monitors. And with the tight acoustics in the room, the cavernous space had the feel of a planetarium.

With Jessie out of town, Alexa would be working alone with Tanya to dig into Garrett's whereabouts. Following the physical and electronic trail to find him would be tricky. Any search would cover sensitive information and involve tapping into restricted resources within the organization, something she'd be willing to chance if it meant finding him.

Plenty depended on her trust in Tanya's instincts and her own when it came to Garrett. And her experiences with the man and his covert organization told her their search should be low-key until they dug up something more substantial to go on.

When she got to Tanya's office, the door was open. She strode into the room but stopped when she saw that her friend wasn't alone.

“I'm sorry.” Alexa stopped in the doorway and turned on her heels, heading out. “I'll come back later.”

“No, please. Come in, Marlowe.” A deep masculine voice called after her. “I was just leaving.”

Alexa turned in surprise when she heard her name coming from the stranger. She narrowed her eyes and looked at the man. And from what she could see, Tanya appeared stressed. The analyst made eye contact and tried to communicate something Alexa couldn't read . . . yet. But knowing Tanya, that wouldn't take long.

“Have we met?” She stepped back into the office and closed the gap between her and a tall man dressed in an impeccable charcoal gray suit. “How do you know my name?”

“Your dossier.” He flashed a slick smile and extended his hand. “Quite impressive. My name is Donovan Cross. I'm an old friend of Garrett's.”

Alexa took his hand and fixed her eyes on him. Few people in the world knew her real credentials. Once she'd become a member of the Sentinels, her background had been sanitized or erased. If this man had seen her dossier, he had to be part of the organization—and a high-ranking agent at that. Yet this was the first time she'd heard his name or crossed his path. And she hated being at a disadvantage.

“Funny. He's never mentioned you. Why are you here, Mr. Cross?” She shifted her gaze toward Tanya, who only raised an eyebrow. When the analyst allowed it, her face could be an open book. And just then, she made for an easy read. Something about this man annoyed her.

“Please . . . call me Donovan. And as for why I'm here, Tanya can fill you in. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about once I leave. Good day, Marlowe.”

Cross had an arrogant swagger, and he moved with the confidence of a man who had been in the business for a long time although he didn't look to be older than his mid-to-late thirties. In some ways, Donovan Cross reminded her of Garrett.

He had short dark hair and the same keen intense eyes that took in everything, except that Cross's eyes were hazel, not the steel gray of Garrett's. He was tall and athletic-looking. And although he had the same taste for expensive clothing, he had a rougher edge than Garrett. His face told her that. He'd seen a fight or two and broken his nose more than once. He wasn't classically handsome, but any woman would notice him in a crowd.

“What was that all about?” she asked Tanya, after Cross left.

“I'm sorry I didn't have time to tell you. I only got the official word an hour ago, direct from Mount Olympus. And that's when he walked in, complete with access codes and security clearance.”

Without Garrett at the helm, they had no one above his level to trust. Tanya was the only one who had communicated with the upper echelon, but she'd never met anyone face-to-face. Alexa didn't like what was happening. And maybe a small part of her knew what Tanya would say next.

“He's Garrett's replacement, Alexa. And I'm not sure it's temporary.”

Chicago

Afternoon

Once Jessie exited the secured area at Chicago's O'Hare airport, she looked through the sea of expectant faces of those waiting for friends and family coming off flights. She searched the crowd for tall, lanky Seth Harper, a guy who wore his hair a little long in soft dark waves and had honey brown eyes that made her weak in the knees. His boyish good looks had always captivated her.

Jessie peered at dozens of faces, looking for him. When she didn't see him anywhere, she felt a twinge of disappointment. She couldn't believe how eager she was to see him. And, completely unlike her, she had primped on the plane and made sure her breath smelled minty fresh, behaving like such a . . . girl.

In her haste to leave New York, she'd only given Seth her flight number and arrival time, resorting to text messages after they'd played phone tag. And she'd told him if they missed each other—which would have been easy at the massive airport—that she'd see him on the curb outside baggage claim.

With airport security these days, it was easier to make arrangements to meet on the arrival ramp although a part of her had hoped he'd surprise her by showing up inside the terminal.

She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and followed her fellow passengers toward baggage claim, but as she rounded a corner beyond security, she saw Harper leaning against a column outside a gift shop. He had a big grin on his sweet face and was holding flowers.

The boy looked damned good.

Without a word, she walked toward him. When she got close, she dropped her bag at his feet and collapsed into his arms. He smelled good—like soap on warm skin—and he felt even better. And all she thought about was how good it felt to be home.

Harper was home.

“Oh . . . you feel so good,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You have no idea.”

Her ear tickled with the sound of the soft laughter muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, I've missed you, too.”

He pulled back long enough to raise her chin with a finger and kiss her. Sweet tenderness heated to a slow burn. People walked by, and the noise of the airport faded. None of it stopped her from showing how much she loved him.

“I've got a new place. And I can't wait for you to see it,” he said, as his kiss turned into a big hug. “I got a deal on it.”

“Yeah, I hear you're connected.” She grinned.

When she reached down for her bag, he had already grabbed it and put his arm around her as they walked through the busy airport, with her holding the flowers he had given her. On the surface, they looked like a damned Hallmark card; but given their pasts, they were the polar opposite of ordinary.

“Tony carved out a piece of real estate for me downtown, one of his renovation projects, but the beauty of it is—I actually own it, Jess. Guess that makes me an official adult.”

Harper said that like it was a good thing.

“You've done it now. You've crossed the line, Harper. I'm not sure I can hang with someone like you. Too rich for my blood.”

Tony Salvatore was a local business developer in town, head of the Pinnacle Real Estate Corporation, a major player in the real-estate market. And he'd been a good friend to Seth and his family.

“Don't worry. It hasn't gone to my head. I have a roommate. He needed a place to stay for a while.” Harper stopped and reached into his jeans pocket. “I better give him a call now, let him know we're on our way.”

Jessie stood with her mouth open as Seth hit speed dial and walked away.
Harper has a roommate?
He was the original lone wolf. When she had first met him, the guy lived off the grid. With his computer expertise, he'd wiped his background clean and avoided any way to trace him. And he lived out of luggage as he moved from place to place with Salvatore's vacant high-dollar real-estate ventures.

Keeping a low profile had been Harper's way of dealing with the strained relationship between him and his father, a former cop who suffered from a form of dementia, the aftermath of a job that had consumed him. Seth's actually putting down roots shocked her, but the whole roommate thing was really over the top. Way too normal for Harper.

Living in downtown Chicago was expensive. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Jessie knew it made sense that Harper had someone to share the cost, even if it was only “for a while,” whatever that meant.

But it was hard to deny she had been disappointed when he told her about his roommate. She had high hopes of spending real alone time with him. And Harper was excited about her coming to Chicago, too. She'd seen it in his eyes. Before she arrived, he'd loaded up her phone with text messages, telling her about his special plans for their time together.

She chalked it up to bad Karma. A dark, surreal cloud had followed her from New York, after Sam's phone call. And after seeing Harper, she didn't have the heart to blurt out the real reason she'd come. Eventually, she'd have to; but before she ruined everything by leaving town again, all she wanted was to enjoy his company.

When Seth rejoined her after calling his roomie, she took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to hide her disappointment in sharing her quirky computer genius with anyone else. He had connections in Chicago, and not all of them were wealthy land barons.

Harper was a magnet for anyone strange. His innocent charm had a lot to do with it. Like her, he knew more than his fair share of fringe dwellers. And curiosity had her wondering whom he trusted enough to share his place.

Harper led a weird life. He was a guy she still thought had a borderline aptitude for crime. His sense of right and wrong was squishy and . . . adaptable.

In a word, he was “perfect” for his new employer, the Sentinels. Garrett Wheeler, the head of the clandestine organization, had recruited him personally. And as for her, Harper was like a pistachio. She couldn't get enough of him.

Jessie narrowed her eyes. “Does your new roomie know what you do for a living?”

“Yeah, he's got a vague notion, but he doesn't hold it against me. Someone's got to work.” He shrugged. “Besides, I trust him.”

Typical Harper. And she wouldn't have him any other way.

Jessie rolled her eyes. “If you say so, Harper.”

New York City

Sentinels' Headquarters

When Alexa Marlowe crossed the threshold of Donovan Cross's new accommodations—Garrett's office—he was expecting her to make an appearance. The tall, athletic blonde made a point not to make an appointment or call ahead. He knew he'd have to earn her respect, and that would be a difficult task. And if the woman had something on her mind, she would say it. Marlowe had a reputation for being anything but subtle.

Cross didn't bother to stand. He slouched in his chair behind the desk, staring at the woman who he knew would not be intimidated.

“Good, you saved me the trouble of sending for you.” He forced a smile. “Your work is exceptional. I've been looking forward to meeting you, Marlowe.”

“I wish I could say the same. All I've got is your word that you have a pedigree. You've seen my dossier. The least you could do is return the favor and show me yours.” The striking woman stood in front of his desk with arms crossed, not bothering to sit.

“And if I say no, what then?”

“Then you would seem like a man with something to hide.”

“Well, here's a novel concept. You could give me a chance. I assure you, I'll grow on you.”

“Look, I just want to know what happened to Garrett. Is it true you're replacing him?”

“Yes. I follow orders, same as you.”

“Where is he?”

Cross raised his eyebrow and didn't answer at first. He made her wait, until he finally said, “I can't say.”

“Can't or won't?” She leaned across his desk and fixed her icy blue eyes on him. “Big difference.”

Cross smirked and rocked in his chair.

“We work for a covert agency. Everything is on a need-to-know basis. Surely you understand how that works.”

“I do, but surely you understand a man like Garrett doesn't just disappear, not without people asking questions.”

From what he'd read of her file, a woman like Alexa Marlowe wouldn't let her questions go unanswered. She was stubborn. Her inquisitive nature and undaunted spirit made her a good agent. Cross knew he'd have to go beyond protocol to satisfy her. And what he had to do wouldn't be easy—for him or her.

“Sit down, Alexa.” He softened his voice and gestured toward a chair. The woman begrudgingly complied and sat on the edge of her seat. Her eyes were fixed on him with a stern expression on her face. Cross took a deep breath before he said, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but . . .”

“But what?” She clenched her jaw.

“Garrett is dead. He was killed on a covert mission.” He swallowed and found it hard to look into her eyes. “I'm sorry. I know he was your friend.”

She fought to stay in control.

“No, this can't . . .” She shook her head, and her eyes watered. “How?”

“I don't have the details. And there are things we may never know.”

“What are you . . . s-saying?”

“I'm saying . . . that his mission was highly classified. And we may not even recover his body. Witnesses say he was killed in an explosion, Alexa. A bad one, but we've confirmed his DNA at the scene. I'm sorry.”

Cross had delivered his message and waited for her reaction. With a trained operative, he'd only get a glimmer if he got any response at all. Alexa Marlowe stared at him for a long moment with only small flinches to her facial muscles. He knew she was deciding what to believe, but when she gritted her teeth and stood without another question, her move surprised him.