Rendezvous with Danger (Reunited Series) (4 page)

Tossing the oven mitts onto the granite countertop, he grabbed a beer from the doublewide stainless steel refrigerator. Spending time in the remodeled kitchen always made him feel close to Jody. He still remembered the day they picked out the top of the line stainless steel appliances. She was like a kid in a candy store, wanting everything but eventually settling on the Viking set.

Vance ran his hand over his spiked blond hair, and then down the back of his neck. He dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs, his mind still on his wife. He understood everyone mourned differently, but he didn’t think he would ever be able to move on. She was his everything.

As a CIA agent, he had missed much of their marriage, taking on ops clear across the world and sometimes being gone for months at a time. But when they were together, it was as if no one else existed. Their children loved to see him and their mother together since most of their friend’s parents were divorced. But as Jody’s illness worsened, the kids blamed him for her deterioration, claiming he needed to be home more. He couldn’t. It tore him up to see her so unlike herself, her life quickly slipping away. As long as she understood his need to stay away, that’s all that mattered. Besides, he had to take on side jobs in order to pay for the mountain of hospital bills. She had been more than his wife. She was his best friend and he didn’t want her worrying about their finances.

He raised his beer bottle. “To you, baby. I miss you, but I know you’re in a better place.” He took a swig, removed his glasses, and wiped the moisture from his eyes. Every year he took two weeks off from work in October in memory of her birthday and their anniversary. That first year he had tried to get his children to come over on their mother’s birthday but his daughter Stephanie outright refused. Her accusing words and tone sent a surge of guilt clawing at his heart. Brent on the other hand, easy going like his mother, had made excuses. If it weren’t for Vance’s job and his volunteer work, he didn’t know what he would do with himself; especially now that he wasn’t in the field as much.

The telephone rang. He took another swig of his beer and walked over to the far counter to grab the cordless phone.

“Hello.”

“Vance?”

“Yes?” He turned towards the stove slowly, thinking he recognized the voice, but knowing it was impossible. “Who is this?”

Silence filled the phone line.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Alandra, Alandra Pargas.”

Vance froze. His beer bottle slipped from his fingers and slammed against the tiled floor, glass flying everywhere. It couldn’t be. This had to be some sick joke, but it was her voice. He’d recognized the sexy breathiness of that voice anywhere.

His mind raced. His heart pounded. His stomach twisted into a knot, remembering how tore up everyone at the Agency had been when they heard she’d been killed. Too stunned to pick up the broken glass, beer pooling near his feet, he fell back into the chair.

“I know this is a shock, but it’s really me and I can prove it. Remember the covert assignment we were on in Libya and we got lost and ended up staying the night in an abandoned building because it was too—”

“Oh my God, it is you.” They had vowed never to tell that story for as long as they worked for the CIA, feeling like total idiots for getting lost. “How?” He ran his damp hands down his face trying to understand how she was still alive when they’d been told otherwise. “Harry said…you were dead.”

Alandra sighed on the other end of the phone. “I know. It’s a long story, but it’s me and I’m alive.”

“I…I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, that’s good, because you can’t say anything. I’m not ready to reveal myself to the world. Not until I take care of some things.”

“Okay,” he drew out the word, still finding the situation unbelievable. “Where are you? D.C.? Virginia?”

“Neither, and right now I can’t tell you where I am – another long story. But I’m calling because I know you still live in Virginia and I need your help. I need you to get some information for me.”

****

After five hours of rushing around the emergency room, Alandra felt like she would fall on her face if she didn’t take a break. An eight-vehicle pile-up on the Kennedy expressway involved a city bus and a semi-truck that left four people dead and six in critical condition. Seven others had been treated and released. Her job with the CIA had been adventurous and given her the opportunity to travel the world. Yet, her job as a nurse was so much more fulfilling.

Alandra walked into the staff locker room, eager to get off her feet. She stretched out on the striped sofa in the corner of the room and placed her arm across her eyes. Five minutes. All she needed was five minutes. Scheduled to do a double shift, she was allowed a longer respite, but if she fell asleep, she might not wake up for hours.

With her eyes closed, she saw Quinn’s handsome face. She still couldn’t get over seeing him again. His dark piercing eyes had studied her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Then the awe in his gaze turned to disbelief, and then rage. If only he’d given her a chance to explain her absence he would have known she hadn’t wanted to leave him.

“I see I’m not the only one who couldn’t take any more.”

Alandra dropped her arm and looked over to see Isabella Blanchard, one of the night shift nurses, walk into the room. Long blond hair, fair skin and expressive blue eyes, Isabella looked as if she should have been on the cover of Vogue magazine instead of working as an ER nurse.

“Yeah, I know. It’s been a crazy busy night,” Alandra said and sat up, placing her feet on the tiled floor. It was time for her and Isabella to discuss the elephant in the room. They’d been tiptoeing around each other for the past few months, neither bringing up the fact that they shared a secret. Based on Intel Alandra had gathered, and from what Harry had told her, Isabella had been instrumental in saving her life. She was the only person who could answer the numerous questions she had about that night in Tzbekystan.

Isabella grabbed a pair of tennis shoes from her locker and settled into a vinyl armchair across from Alandra. She made slow work of slipping off her nursing clogs before she slumped back into her seat and closed her eyes, clearly as tired as Alandra.

“How long have you been a nurse?” Alandra asked.

Isabella opened her eyes and met Alandra’s gaze. “Over ten years.” She lied with a straight face. “And you?”

“About the same,” Alandra lied. “What did you do prior to that?”

“I was in school.”

Alandra sat back and stared at Isabella. She searched her mind trying to remember if she’d ever seen Isabella before coming to Chicago. Based on her research into her past, Isabella was a few years older and had started with the CIA right out of college. Prior to leaving the agency, she’d been an oversees operative known as Sarah Olson. Alandra couldn’t ever remember seeing her, but knew Isabella had gotten her out of Tzbekystan and saved her life. Rumor had it Isabella had gone rogue, disappearing from the agency two-and-a-half years ago. It had taken Alandra more than a year to track her down, and now she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

“So what made you come to Chicago?” Isabella asked. “I’m sure it was hard giving up the beautiful weather in Los Angeles for snow and below freezing temperatures.”

Apparently, Alandra hadn’t been the only one to do her homework. She wondered just how much this woman knew about her. “You. I came to meet you, the person who saved my life.”

Isabella’s expression didn’t change. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alandra slid to the end of the sofa, closer to Isabella’s chair. “I think you do.”

Several seconds passed without either of them speaking. The furnace kicked in and muffled voices came from people talking outside the door in the hallway. Isabella bent down to put on her tennis shoes and then returned to her locker. Determined to get some answers, Alandra followed her.

“I need to know what happened that night,” Alandra whispered, not knowing when the next medical personnel would walk through the door. “And please don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Isabella grabbed her jacket, her bag and slammed the metal locker door. “I can’t say that I’m surprised you found me. You were a good agent.”

Alandra tilted her head. “Then you understand why it’s important that I know everything that happened that night. Every area of my life was ruined and I have no idea why. What do you know about me and that night?”

Isabella’s smile was one of faint amusement. She threw her bag over her shoulder without taking her eyes off Alandra. “I know more about you, the crooked ways of the government, the CIA, and that fine boyfriend of yours, than you’ll ever want to know.”

“Excuse me?” How did Isabella know Quinn? It was clear she didn’t know they had married, but what exactly did she know about him?

 “I see he recovered nicely from his injuries. The last time I saw him he had a bullet in his back and was still trying to protect you.”

Alandra slammed her against the lockers. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Chapter Three

Isabella glanced down at Alandra’s hands on her jacket. “I get that you’ve been through hell these past few years, but if you don’t back up off of me, the shit you went through will seem like a day at the beach compared to what I will do to you.”

Despite the five or six inch height difference and the fact that Isabella had at least twenty pounds on Alandra, several seconds passed before Alandra released her. Everything within her wanted to snatch Isabella by her long blond hair and toss the bitch across the room, but she released her jacket. A hospital was definitely not the place to settle a score. Besides, she needed answers, and Isabella was her only lead.

“I take it you didn’t know about his injuries,” Isabella said and adjusted her coat.

Alandra shook her head and ran her hands down her face. No wonder Quinn was angrier with her than she had expected. Harry, the Director of the CIA and her former boss, hadn’t told her. That first year, during her recovery, he led her to believe Quinn was dead. It wasn’t until Harry helped her with her new identity did he finally tell her the truth – Quinn was alive - and he only came clean then because she confronted him when she learned that Quinn lived in Chicago. Yet, she had no idea Quinn had been seriously injured.

“Oh, and to answer your question, I didn’t do anything to your man, but I know who did.”

“Who?”

“Let’s just say it isn’t as easy as naming just one name. I can give you answers, but not here and not now.” Isabella pulled out a small pad of paper from her handbag and scribbled something on it. “Meet me at this address tomorrow night at ten thirty.”

Alandra reached for the note, but Isabella held on to one end of it until they made eye contact.

“I need you to keep my identity to yourself. Like you, if certain people find me, I’m dead.”

****

Sleep eluded Quinn. He sat in his den and played the encounter with Alandra around in his head for the umpteenth time. So many questions and no answers, which was his own fault. Rarely did he lose his temper and he never had with her. The expression on her face when he told her to get out was one Quinn would remember for as long as he lived. She looked at him as if he had punched her, her eyes filling with tears. She wasn’t a crier, but tonight she had come close. Yet, just as quickly, her fiery temper made an appearance and she cursed him as she walked out into the night.

He placed another log on the fire, and walked across the room to the bar located in the corner. Shadows from the crackling flames bounced off the walls creating a cozy atmosphere and lighting his path. Only October and it was already cold outside. Had it not been for his and Tyler Hollister’s real estate development company, Quinn would have had his permanent residence in southern California, where the average temperature was 70 degrees. He still had a vacation house outside of Los Angeles, but since losing Alandra he rarely used it.

He grabbed the crystal bottle from the top shelf behind the bar and a brandy snifter before walking back to his leather recliner. He’d been saving the bottle of cognac for a special occasion, and the resurrection of his dead wife seemed like an appropriate one.

After pouring the brandy into his glass, Quinn cupped it in his hand, his fingers spread around the base as he swirled the dark liquid methodically. He let it warm within his hand before taking a sip; appreciating the aroma he then allowed his palette to savor the rich flavor.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and grimaced. It was four in the morning. He had pulled his share of all-nighters, even going several days without real sleep in the military. Now that he was part owner of a multi-million dollar real estate development company, his days were laid back and peaceful. At least until Alandra showed up. He took another sip of his brandy, placed the near empty glass on the table, and laid his head against the back of his recliner. Her death seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Hey! Get a nurse in here! I think he’s coming through.” Quinn heard Malik’s frantic voice. “Quinn, can you hear me? Quinn?”

Quinn eased his eyes opened, wondering what all the commotion was about. He felt like he’d been hit by a train and dragged miles along the track. Where the hell am I? he thought, but when he saw Malik, who looked worse than Quinn felt, it all came back to him. Tzbekystan, the documents, footsteps…Alandra…

“Lan,” he rasped, his throat feeling like someone had scraped the inside of it with an ax. “How is she?”

“Who?”Malik asked, standing over him.

“Alandra. Where is she?”A prickle of fear crept up Quinn’s arms and his pulse pounded in his ears at the confusion he saw on Malik’s face. “Where is she?”he yelled, anxiety rioting within him.

“Man, just calm down.” Malik put his hand on his shoulder trying to keep him from moving. “Quinn, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, but you have to calm the hell down. It was probably just a dream. You’re in Germany. You took a couple of bullets to the back, but you’re going to be all right.”