Redeem My Heart (6 page)

“Drop it. Both of you,” Fallon ordered, walking past Ryland and into the parlor off the grand foyer. She all but ignored the collection of men, including the odd one out who was currently on his phone. Whoever he was, he didn’t quite fit into the CSA mold with his patch-covered leather vest biker appearance, the bold tattoo on his neck, and the two-inch scar that marred his jawline. Were those chaps he was wearing? “Neither one of you would be here and willing to see this through if you thought E.D.A. didn’t exist.”

“Don’t tell me that Fallon has convinced you that Neoni was working under the guise of some ultra-classified program that went sideways?”

Ryland didn’t wait for Crest to respond as he walked farther into the room. He surveyed his surroundings, liking what he was seeing. The inside of the house was as affluent as the outside, with a slant toward the comfortable side. The furniture was early American Colonial, while the ancient hardwood floors were twenty-inch wide oak planks covered with Venetian woven rugs. From the obvious cost that had been placed into the period furnishings, it was more than apparent that Fallon’s grandmother had done the décor with original pieces circa 1730.

“E.D.A. did exist,” Crest stated matter-of-factly, walking through the parlor and past the heavyweight champion. Ryland still wasn’t sure what the man’s function was supposed to be, but it didn’t matter. Fallon thought that they could all work together, but that just wasn’t the case. Crest led the way into a drawing room where the large center table was set up as a desk with multiple laptops and a portable printer. There was a file in front of an empty seat, but Ryland wasn’t in a hurry to view the contents. Crest always did his research and if he said the E.D.A. was authentic…it had been at some point in time. He also used past tense, so it wasn’t an issue any longer, just as Fallon had said previously. “It was a covert program created during the sixties and dissolved by the mid-nineties. The acronym stood for Elimination of Destructive Alliances. I don’t need to spell that out for you, I’m sure.”

“I was granted immunity, Crest.” Ryland slipped his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, not willing to concede quite yet that he would be staying. Fallon was already across the room and removing her jacket, her eyes switching between the two of them. “I’m not sure what your overall game plan is here, but there’s no need to continue down this country road. I’m solely responsible for
my
choices and I don’t regret those that
I
made.”

“I don’t think you were a part of E.D.A. any more than you do, but Fallon placed herself in danger by following up on Neoni’s statement officially. Now he’s dead and we can’t question him further, thanks to your actions.” Crest set his mug down beside his laptop and gestured toward the screen. “I’m here to ensure that anyone who still has ties with the defunct operation doesn’t decide to do to her what they’ve probably done to your iniquitous colleagues.”

“You ensured that by having her turn everything over to her supervisor.” Ryland didn’t like the track of this circle they were taking, so he decided to bring it to a halt. “So what are we hoping to accomplish?”

“Fallon won’t let this go and I won’t be the one responsible for her death.”

Ryland shook his head, at a loss for words by the sanctimonious attitudes of people who thought their actions resulted in the fate of others. Crest should be above that, but it was obvious there was a defect in his genetic character. They all needed to own up to their choices, just as he had. He sighed in resignation and was dismayed that his life had come to this complete waste of time. Fallon had proven to be a nice distraction for the morning, but this wasn’t the outcome he’d been hoping for as he’d surveyed her limber body during their long drive. He was done cooperating and enabling her delusions, all but giving her an excuse for why she was attracted to him. It stopped. Now.

“Fallon, may I have a word with you in private, please?”

Chapter Four

F
allon eyed Ryland warily, knowing full well it wouldn’t benefit her to have a
private
talk with him. The change in his attitude was astounding, so unlike the charismatic man he’d been with her this morning. In the blink of an eye, his demeanor changed. This was the man that should have scared her. She was second guessing her decision to have Crest here during their arrival, but it was too late to change their plans now. She needed his contacts and he had refused to cooperate unless she involved him.

“These are the files of those federal employees still employed from your time in the service,” Fallon said, all but ignoring Ryland’s request. She walked to the table and slid a large binder to the other side. He should eventually take it and peruse through the information, especially since Crest was all but daring him to pick up the collective dossiers. Ryland’s superior stance all but guaranteed it. “We’d like to know if you remember any of them having had anything to do with your initial deployments.”

“No.” Ryland walked around the table. At first Fallon thought he was coming for her until he rested his hands on the frame of the French doors that led out to a large terrace on the side of the house. He wasn’t responding the way he should have. She was surprised by his denial and even more so his last parting shot. “I’ll leave the two of you to work in peace while I enjoy the fresh air coming in off of the ocean.”

Silence reigned when Ryland had closed the French doors behind him. Any other human being would have been tempted to know who wrote the dossiers and what they contained. He or she also would have left the door somewhat open to overhear what might have been said in his or her absence. Not Ryland. He was once again proving her theory that his persona was technically that of two quite different people. She wasn’t talking about a multiple personality disorder either, rather that he intentionally threw a switch.

“Why are you doing this, Fallon?” Jax asked, his incredulous tone pulling her attention away from Ryland’s form disappearing from view. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere without her knowing, especially considering Crest had this place monitored as if it were a federal prison. Then again, Ryland was one of the few people who’d succeeded in escaping such a facility in Colorado. She inhaled deeply, needing some oxygen to clear her swirling thoughts. Crest’s coffee cup caught her attention and she realized that what she really needed at the moment was some caffeine if she were going to answer any of Jax’s questions. “He’s a psychopath. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. He’s an abomination to the human race and he should have been taken care of long before this point.”

“I’m telling you that Travis Bowers was a naïve soldier—one who wasn’t even old enough to drink—when he was taken from his unit and exploited as a test subject in nothing more than a psychological experiment in conditioned behavior.” Fallon just had to prove it. She’d gone over some of the records that Crest had managed to retrieve from various archives, but all the paper did was outline the program—eliminate and/or obliterate any evidence of alliances who could no longer benefit the United States of America. “I’m not saying that he should be pardoned for the lives he’s taken, but he could live out his life as a—”

“As a what?” Jax asked, ignoring the pointed look that Crest was sending his way. Fallon understood why Taryn wasn’t here, followed closely by Ethan. They were emotionally too close to the subject and would only interfere with what Fallon was hoping to do. Crest showed no deference for Ryland, but he would always do the right thing in the name of justice. “Do you think you’re going to turn Ryland into an upstanding citizen? He’s like the man-eating sharks out in that fucking ocean, Fallon. He’s tasted human blood and now he has a thirst for it. It creates a drive in a man like him. Like a former junkie has for his drug of choice. It will never release his black soul completely. In the end, it doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong.”

“I respectfully disagree.”

Fallon left it at that and walked out of the drawing room before Jax could take things too far. He no doubt wanted to say something along the lines of what Ryland had already stated or what Crest undoubtedly shared with his men before their arrival. She didn’t care. Her job as a profiler was leading her down this path. Did she have a personal interest at stake? Absolutely. Ryland was like the ivy that grew on the side of her parents’ house in Virginia. It started out as a strand of leaves with a few wiry tendrils. It wrapped up anything and everything in its path in a blink of an eye. He was her ivy, because she found she couldn’t breathe, eat, or sleep without him crossing her mind. It either needed to end completely or she needed to find a way to justify finding a way to let him into her life, not that he’d ever tried contacting her after he’d gone into
retirement
. Quite the opposite in fact, which only frustrated her more. She didn’t like this weakness of character he brought out of her. She needed to know why she was being drawn to the flame.

“You can’t blame Jax for his anger,” Crest said quietly, walking into the music room behind her. Fallon suddenly felt as cool as the polished marble that decorated the long dead hearth. It was a very cold feeling room, a little too bright and sterile for her tastes. She chose a mug from the tray that had been brought from the butler’s pantry. It was fully arranged with sugar cubes and creamer as if the staff was still here like during the summer months. She poured herself some coffee all the while knowing she should have something to eat, but she’d lost her appetite. “Ryland has caused a lot of damage over the course of the past few years for my team. That will never be forgotten…nor forgiven.”

“I take it Jessie is still in Minneapolis?”

Fallon walked over to the edge of a formal raised dais placed in front of an enormous picture window, taking a seat looking back into the room toward the collection of chairs arranged before her. She didn’t want to go back into the lion’s den, deciding it was better to deal with the tamer. She took a sip of the coffee that Crest or one of his team members had made with the fancy Belle Époque machine that her father swore made the best coffee in the world. She grimaced at the bitterness. Someone needed considerably more practice figuring out the finer points of the machine’s particulars. She was rather taken aback that someone could have ruined the taste of such an expensive brand of coffee so badly.

“Jax isn’t the best at making coffee, even with an automatic coffee maker.” Crest must have caught her facial expression. He selected one of the many chairs and settled in somewhat comfortably, leaving Fallon to feel as if she were before an inquisition. It wasn’t needed. She did notice that there was still an edge in his demeanor and Fallon wondered if it ever went away. “And yes, Jessie is back home. I don’t want her anywhere near this. So tell me. What is the end game here?”

“I don’t know,” Fallon answered honestly, leaning back and unbuttoning the cuffs on her dress shirt. She’d have to change before diving in to the documents Crest had procured, but she wanted this discussion out of the way first. “We need to uncover the truth about the CIA indoctrinating Travis Bowers. We then need to determine if they’ve managed to create one of the most flawless assassins to ever be activated, and in some fantastic manner that we haven’t been privy to up to this point. Even you have to be wondering why the E.D.A. would try to resurrect the project now or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m here because I have a responsibility to ensure your safety as a subject matter expert contracted as a member of my team,” Crest stated matter-of-factly. “You’re assuming E.D.A. is coming out of the woodwork based on a dead man’s statement. Should I find out that the E.D.A. operation had anything to do with proselytizing Travis Bowers, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Since Ryland has been so recently taken out of commission, I feel we need to keep him under close surveillance. In reality, it’s not him that I’m concerned about. I’m more troubled with who else the E.D.A. might have waiting in the wings.”

“Ryland eliminated Neoni,” Fallon exclaimed, not telling Crest anything he didn’t already know. She recalled the few names that the federal government was aware of being in that line of work, especially back in the days of the program’s activation. Successful professional assassins were few and far between, most journeymen in the trade having either been executed or incarcerated. “There were two other men that were known to the Bureau, but they fell off the grid a decade or more ago.”