Secret Agent Boyfriend (15 page)

She caught the tense set of his body from the corner of his eye. How he shifted against the seat once more, hands clenched into hard fists on his knees.

“Relationships come and go, and while I was planning on making a life with her, it’s not the relationship itself I’m upset about.” A hard laugh rumbled from his chest. “Which is part of the problem, I’m sure.”

“What signs didn’t you see?”

“How unhappy she was. How she resented my job. How she quietly and deliberately tried to manipulate me day after day. I was oblivious to it all.”

“Relationships are hard. And we all check out from time to time. Sometimes it’s easier that way. To let the things you don’t like swirl around you while you focus on the other things in your life you can control.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “I’ve dubbed it the Landry Adair Relationship Method. It’s been rather effective up to now.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I think you’ve done an incredible job with what you’ve had to work with.” His hand crossed his body to cover hers, the gesture warm and intimate in the darkened car. “Besides. I’m a cop. I should have seen the signs and known how to deal with the situation.”

“Ah, yes.” She nodded sagely, and purposely pushed bite into her tone. “The Derek Winchester Relationship Method. My profession makes me bulletproof and nothing can hurt me.”

“Landry—”

The traffic was light, not a car nearby for hundreds of yards, so she risked a glance his way. “Am I wrong?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Oh, hell, Derek. It’s all the same. Life. Relationships. Human interaction. It doesn’t suddenly get easy because you have a certain job or a given amount of cash in your bank account. Life’s hard and we all deal with our own fair share of crap.”

She slid her hand from his arm, tired of trying to make him see reason. Whatever pain he carried, he was obviously more content to hold it close and allow it to continue eating away at his soul than to get help or share the load.

* * *

A dull wash of gray reflected back at them through the windshield as Landry pulled up to a warehouse several blocks down from the one he and Mark had targeted. The dynamics of the area changed block by block, and he knew this corner to be one that was well maintained by the building owner, who also believed in a strong security system. He’d made peace with Landry coming along, but there was no way he was putting her in the line of fire.

An unmarked car sat down the street and Derek knew it to be one issued by the department for sting operations. Even with the seventy-five yards that separated them, the car’s inhabitants could be there in a moment if needed.

His gaze drifted over the woman next to him. Strong. Sure of herself. And altogether too determined to have her own way. She’d refused to be shaken off, and he’d already exacted a promise that she’d go straight to a hotel room that had been prearranged and wait for him there.

Anxiety aside, if he were honest with himself, he had to admit her cool head and reasonable logic back at Adair Acres had rung true. The car ride up had given him time to call Mark and work through the details of the operation.

The end of the ride, however, had been a different story.

Was the woman mad?

How could she ask him questions about another woman when he could still feel the heat between the two of them branding his skin? They’d made love for hours and she wanted to know about his ex-fiancée?

Worse, she wanted him to talk about where he’d gone wrong with his relationship. How he’d ignored the signs, or worse, didn’t even bother to look at how unhappy Sarah was. Instead, he’d been content to live his life and drag another person along the path of his life choices.

Sarah had hated his life as an FBI agent. Oh, she enjoyed telling her friends what he did, but beyond that, she resented his time in the field. His time away from her.

How had he missed that?

He knew plenty of people who juggled a life in the Bureau with marriages and families. At one time, he thought himself capable of the same, but now...

Now he wasn’t quite so sure.

The Rena Frederickson case had put more into focus than just his career. Maybe that was why, on a visceral level even he couldn’t describe, he needed to save this child. For her own life and future, yes.

But somehow she’d become the redemption for his.

“Do you have what you need?”

Landry’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. That Zen place he always went to before an op where the things around him faded away, replaced by a focus on what he needed to accomplish. “I’ve got it all.”

His sidearm was in its holster against his ribs, and he knew Mark had an arsenal of backup already with him. With the added men Mark had worked to line up, Derek knew they were set.

“I’m good.”

“Then I’ll let you get to it.”

The limited lighting in this part of town kept the SUV fairly dark, but there was a sliver of moonlight that filtered through her driver’s-side door, reflecting off the blond strands of her hair.

Since they’d already agreed she’d wait at one of the luxury hotels downtown, he focused on that simple bit of reassurance. She’d be safe as soon as she drove away. Away from the wash of darkness that had clouded his life for far too long.

“I’ll have Mark bring me back to the Bureau when we finish the op and then we’ll come to the hotel after we get everything filed. Try to get some sleep as it’ll probably be around ten or eleven tomorrow morning before we’ve got everything wrapped up.”

“I’ll see you then.” She closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his. The quiet of the car closed around them like a cocoon, and for the briefest moment, Derek allowed himself to sink into her.

He’d been unable to resist her, but in that moment he needed her with a raw hunger that sent a shiver of fear through his midsection.

When had he gotten so vulnerable?

Landry lifted her head and pressed a hand to his cheek. “Be careful.”

Although it was dim, a small swath of light reflected from a street lamp at the end of the block. The angle of the beam framed her gaze and he took the moment to stare into those bright blue depths.

Derek braced for the thinly veiled censure that he was leaving, but all he saw was support.

He slipped from the car, unable to spend another moment waiting. He needed to focus on the op. On the need to protect and defend and finally—
finally
—bring Rena Frederickson home.

Landry drove off as they’d planned and Derek waited, watching the back of the car until her taillights faded fully from view. He’d deliberately selected their stopping point because it put her two simple right turns back to the freeway. She was a competent woman who knew where she was going, and he had to trust she’d find her way.

He’d also reassured himself by punching the hotel address into her GPS, reviewing every prescribed turn on the navigation system in advance.

Landry would be fine. And when he picked her up tomorrow they’d figure out what to do with the rest of their lives.

A hard breath caught in his throat as that image took root.

The rest of their lives.

When had he started thinking about her in terms of something permanent?

And with another dose of reality crashing in, he had to admit it was about ninety seconds after he met her, her blond hair slicked back as she stared up at him from the pool. Even now, he could picture it as vividly as if he were standing there. Sun backlit her features, framing her like a goddess rising from the pool as rivulets of water ran over her face and chest and down her impossibly long legs.

She was beautiful. And in all the moments since, he’d seen how her external beauty was dwarfed by the woman she was inside.

Her care for her family and friends. The focus, attention and devotion she lavished on the charities she was involved with. Even her fierce protection of her mother’s name, despite her very real acknowledgment that Patsy didn’t deserve it.

Landry Adair was amazing.

And he loved her for all of it.

That sense of vulnerability slapped at him once more but Derek pushed it back. He’d thought himself in love before, only to discover it was a mirage of poor expectations and veiled frustration.

What he had with Landry was different. Her willingness to bring him here was only one example that set her apart. And set apart what they felt for each other.

With one last glance in the direction she’d driven away, Derek shifted his focus inward. He might have just had the revelation of his life, but it was time to do what he’d come for.

There’d be time soon enough to tell Landry how he felt.

The target location was about a hundred yards away and he kept to the shadows, walking against the outer walls of each building between his drop-off point and the warehouse entrance. He patted the tools in his pockets and sensed the reassuring weight of his gun under his arm and another piece strapped to his leg.

Satisfied with his preparations, he moved on to the next phase. An image of the building’s layout filled his mind’s eye. Mark said their intel pinpointed Rena on the first floor behind a row of old office cubicles.

Derek kept that image firmly in place and slipped into one of the building’s required fire exits. The door had already been identified as a weak spot on their first reconnaissance, and it only took him a few minutes to work his pick tools before a hard snap on the frame finished the job.

A light breeze wafted over his neck, chilling him.

They were almost done.

An eerie stillness descended over him as he moved through the back side of the warehouse, gun in hand. Large, dirty windows filtered what little light was outside, but it was enough to give him a dim picture while his eyes further adjusted to the interior of the building.

The layout was much as he remembered, and he passed several rows of abandoned cubicles. The fabric that lined each cubicle showed its wear, the evidence of rodents chewing through the cloth visible in the frayed fabric and small holes at the base of the various frames he passed as he moved.

When he reached the end of a row, he stilled, doing his level best to orient himself to wherever Rena might be. While he knew there wouldn’t be a parade in his honor, he expected some sort of noise, even if it were just the muffled noises of her sleeping.

But no matter how hard he strained, his body still, he couldn’t detect a bit of sound that indicated another human was anywhere in the vicinity.

Another frisson of unease skittered over his skin and he glanced back the way he came. The door had been awfully easy to get through, and the lack of noise persisted. More than the lack of noise, the overarching stillness of the space felt unnatural.

He slipped a small, high-powered flashlight from his pocket and swung it low, illuminating layers of dirt and animal droppings on the floor. The evidence of such filth added a layer of anger over the anxiety and he fought to keep his calm. He’d do Rena no good to get upset now.

There would be plenty of time for anger later.

He kept tight to the cubicle wall and knew he’d pass one more row before he hit the wall of physical offices. Rena would be there.

She had to be there.

On the signal he and Mark had practiced, he tossed a beam up toward an exterior wall of windows, flashing three times. The tomblike stillness wrapped around him as he waited for Mark’s response.

Nothing.

He waited, counting off his breaths, then flashed the signal once more.

After several beats, again. Nothing.

An image of Landry wavered before his eyes. She was waiting for him. She expected him to come back. To meet her at the hotel tomorrow morning so they could drive together back to Adair Acres.

Even with the image of her pulling him like a lodestone back the way he came, he pushed himself forward. Toward the wall of offices and the child he knew was there. In life or in death, he needed to go to her. Needed to see for himself.

He stepped forward, his only focus on the office door that sat ajar halfway down the hallway. It was the only reason he stepped into the pool of blood that lay around the scrawny figure of Big Al Winters.

Chapter 15

T
ime passed in a blur of action and image. Derek dropped to his knees to check for Al’s pulse, knowing full well he was too late. The body was still warm, but all evidence of life had drained along with the man’s blood.

Derek screamed for help, the remembered protocols flashing through his mind as he hollered out the commands for all clear and victim down, before he searched for the gunshot.

He found two neat, clean holes at the chest and throat.

The shots were precise—and lined up in a familiar pattern—and he stilled a moment to simply catalog the wounds for himself before moving on to the rest of the body.

Al was obviously unarmed and by the look of him, hadn’t washed in days. Derek shifted away from the body, determined to investigate the rest of the warehouse. It was only when he glanced down to find himself covered in blood that he stilled.

There was no way they’d recover any additional evidence if he layered the place in bloody footprints.

So he waited.

And watched as Mark came through the door first, gun drawn.

“All clear!” Derek hollered the words, his hands up so Mark would connect the words with the body language. He waited and saw the moment his partner shifted from on guard to aware.

A pained expression filled Mark’s face, his eyes dark with worry. “Why the hell didn’t you wait for me?”

Derek lowered his arms, his movements slow as the others began spilling in the doors. “Why did you miss my signal? I flashed it several times, just like we arranged.”

“Signal? I’ve been waiting outside for you for the last hour. There was no signal.”

Mark was waiting?

Derek ran through the moments when he flashed his light at the exterior windows. He’d made the signal, then waited. Then he’d made it again.

He
knew
he had.

Their team lead, Leo Manchester, came in and took his place behind Mark, interrupting Derek’s mental backtrack through the past several minutes. “Winchester. You okay?”

“Fine, sir.”

Lines carved deep into the man’s face as he held up his free hand in a gesture to stay. His other still held a firm grip on his pistol. “Don’t move. Techs are coming right behind.”

As several of his Bureau mates flooded in behind Mark and Leo, Derek willed himself to stand still.

And hoped like hell he hadn’t just become a sitting duck.

* * *

Landry flipped through the file she’d stowed in her purse, ever hopeful something new would reach out and grab her from the papers. Not that it had so far.

She shook her head, trying to remove the lethargy and cross-eyed exhaustion reams of paperwork could cause in a person. The hours had ticked off the clock with aching slowness, matched only by the tedium of working her way through page after page of government documentation.

She and Derek had reviewed the files they’d printed at the FBI as they’d been able, but always in bunches, stack by stack. When the idea hit her the night before—to lay the papers out in hope of finding a pattern—she’d believed it worth a try.

Now?

She’d finally accepted the fact that she’d spent the better portion of eight hours engaged in a vain attempt to find patterns that simply didn’t exist. Add on a vat of black coffee and all she had to show for her time was a case of the jitters and considerably more familiarity with her family tree.

Life events. News clippings. Flight plans.

Each report was yet another piece of evidence defining her family over the past century like a mini film rolling before her eyes.

She reviewed the photo of her grandmother in her Irish lace wedding gown and could picture the same gown where it was preserved behind glass on a dressmaker’s dummy in the family house in North Carolina.

A news report announcing the initial public offering of AdAir Corp, her father’s proud smile reflecting up at her from the page. The same photo still sat, framed in his old office, a lone hundred-dollar bill set off beneath the image signifying AdAir Corp’s first earnings as a public company.

And then there was Jackson’s birth announcement, memorialized in a Raleigh newspaper. The notation of his parentage—Reginald and Ruby—and a photo of the two of them leaving the hospital in Raleigh. Some enterprising photographer had expected that the couple might be worth something someday and had camped out to grab the shot. He’d had no idea his photo would become one of the centerpieces of a kidnapping investigation a mere three months later.

Landry rubbed at her arms and dragged the comforter around her shoulders.

Her family records. But were they really the key to uncovering family secrets?

Although her grandmother had died when she was small, she tried to conjure up some memories in her mind. A sleek woman, Eleanor Adair had prized her standing as one of the leading socialites in Raleigh. She’d married into the Adair family to cement that position and ensure she birthed the next generation of Raleigh society.

On the rare occasions they had spent time together, Eleanor had kept them all at a distance. Landry remembered a summer visit when the head cook had sneaked her, Whit and Carson Popsicles and her grandmother nearly fired the woman on the spot for allowing the children on the “good sofa.”

Could that vain, vapid woman really be behind it all? Had she stolen from one child to give to another? And to what end?

Landry’s gaze fell on the clock and she registered the time. It was ten already?

She’d expected to hear from Derek by now.

The urge to shoot him a quick text was strong but she had no idea if even the vibration of his phone might alert someone to his presence, so she held back. She vowed to call the FBI in another fifteen minutes if she didn’t hear from him.

She sifted through the pile on the bed, digging once more for the articles about her grandmother. The memories of Eleanor had left a funny aftertaste, and she was curious if the woman was as brittle and emotionless as she remembered.

The stack of newspaper announcements she’d placed together earlier—weddings, births, deaths—were in easy reach and Landry flipped through them.

Eleanor’s engagement to Baxter Adair. The requisite wedding photos that took up what had to be the entire section of a newspaper at that time. The announcement of Bucannon’s birth, followed by Rosalyn’s and Emmaline’s and then her father’s.

She flipped to the last page and found the photos of Emmaline’s wedding. Her late husband, Nicholas Scott, stared back from the photo, his hands entwined with Emmaline’s.

At the image staring back at her, Landry stilled, Georgia’s words coming back to her.

Georgia had believed Noah bore a shocking resemblance to Ruby’s late father. A resemblance that was more than evident in photos, which had tipped Georgia off to the possible connection.

And the photo she held in her hand showed nothing similar between Noah and the man everyone believed to be his father. Noah had the Adair blue eyes but he had dark blond hair. No one in the Adair family was blond unless it came out of the bottle, and Emmaline’s late husband had dark hair that looked almost black in the photo.

On a frustrated sigh she crossed to the dresser and gave herself a good once-over in the mirror.

It could be a coincidence.

Hair color changed as people aged. Heck, she knew that as well as anyone, since she paid good money for the blond that highlighted her hair. But still...

She twirled a lock of her own hair—dark with blond highlights—and considered the photo on the bed. Noah had a fresh-faced, all-American look about him that didn’t mesh with Nicholas Scott’s darker European looks.

The connection was skimpy, but it was valid.

Her gaze alighted on one of the other stacks she’d piled up and she dug through, suddenly curious about the birth certificate she’d flipped past earlier.

“Noah, Noah, Noah,” she muttered as she worked her way through the stack. “There!”

The birth certificate was in French, the dates reversed in the custom Europeans used. Date first, followed by month and then year.

“Oh, no.” Landry scanned the papers once more, her gaze skimming over the dates. “Aunt Emmaline. What did you do?”

* * *

Derek sat in the interrogation room, his earlier expectations ringing like a haunting reminder in his mind. He’d been in here for hours, various members of the department taking shots at him with endless questions.

“Walk me through it again, Winchester.”

“Damn it, Leo, I’ve walked you through it. Several freaking times already. Big Al was dead when I got there.”

“So how did you end up with all his blood covering you?”

“I came upon him by surprise. You were in there. You saw how narrow the cubicles were and the position of the body.”

Leo shook his head. “You walked into a dead guy? Come on, Derek. You haven’t been on leave that long. You know protocol. Procedure.”

“And I also know my partner was supposed to have my back and he didn’t.”

“Yet you went in anyway.”

Derek saw the corner he’d painted himself into and focused on his rationale. “Rena’s been missing for months now. We owe it to the kid to find her.”

“And you owe it to your teammates and yourself to follow the correct procedures designed to keep your ass safe!” Leo slammed his fist onto the table. “Why the hell didn’t you wait? Now I’ve got one of my best agents at the scene of a crime, with a man he’s already shot once, gun in hand and blood all over him, and a pattern of bullet holes you’re known for.”

The adrenaline that had sustained him throughout the long hours of questioning kicked in, drawing on a reserve Derek didn’t even know he had. “Excuse me?”

“The bullet holes. The throat and chest. On the vic.”

“Yes?”

“It’s signature Derek Winchester. All the way back to your days with the Secret Service. Your shots are meticulous.”

A terrible cold began to spread through his body, numbing him to his core, and the strange sense of familiarity he had while examining the vic came back to him in full force. “I didn’t shoot Al, Leo.”

“You had every reason to. You didn’t follow procedure. No one was there with you. And the vic bore your signature shot pattern.”

“He died at the hands of someone else. All I did was find the guy. And where were you all, anyway?”

“Us?” Derek saw the spark leap into Leo’s eyes and knew he needed to tread carefully. When had this gone so far south?

“All of you. Mark wasn’t where he was supposed to be. And hell, no one else was where they were supposed to be, either. You guys were parked across from the warehouse and never even showed up until you followed behind Mark.”

“We weren’t across from the warehouse.”

“Of course you were. I saw the department issue when I pulled up.”

“What department issue?” Leo pushed forward, his body vibrating with sudden interest. “We weren’t there, Winchester.”

The cold in his veins receded, replaced by the sudden kindling of anger and betrayal.

Where was Mark in all this?

Mark had given him the intel. Mark had worked through all the logistics with him on the drive up from Adair Acres. And Mark had arranged tonight’s drop.

Derek glanced toward the two-way mirrored glass, then caught Leo’s eyes. He reached for the notepad at his elbow and scribbled a quick note.

So who was at the warehouse?

* * *

Derek was still shaking a half hour later as he sat in Leo’s office. He’d finally been given leave to call Landry. A vague sense of shame tugged at him as she was ushered into Leo’s office and he tried to push it away.

He hadn’t done anything. Yet here he was, stuck in his boss’s office waiting for her, unable to leave on his own.

“Derek!” She launched herself at him, her arms wrapping tight around his midsection. She’d asked minimal questions on the phone but he could see that the lack of information had shaken her. Her face was pale and he heard a distinct quaver beneath her words. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear. “I’m sorry to do this to you and I’ll explain it later, but you need to follow my lead. Nod if you understand.”

She pulled back, her eyes wide with concern, but she nodded, the move nearly imperceptible.

“Landry. Let me introduce you to my commanding officer, Leo Manchester.”

The two of them worked their way through introductions and it was only when Leo sat behind his desk, his hands folded, that Derek saw the realization kick in as it covered Landry’s face in subtle surprise.

She wasn’t here for a polite series of introductions.

“Miss Adair. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about last night?” When she only nodded, Leo pressed on. “I understand you accompanied Derek into the city last night.”

“Yes. He’s been a guest in my home and when he got the call to come into the city, I told him I’d drive him while he worked on his preparations in the car.”

“That was awfully generous of you.”

She shrugged, but she never broke eye contact. “I care for Derek. I wanted him to be safe.”

“And you thought you could keep him safe?”

“I hardly think a trained FBI agent needs my protection. But I did think he could use the help I was capable of offering, namely a ride.”

The two bantered back and forth and, to her credit, she never wavered from her story.

Nor did she back down.

Whatever questions Leo threw her way, she answered back in kind. But it was the last that had Leo stilling in a mixture of surprise and shock.

“Look, Agent Manchester. Perhaps I’ve been a bit too delicate. Derek and I are in a relationship. We spent last evening together and were, in fact, together when he got the call. I care for him and I refused to see him go alone. Nagged him about it until he gave in, as a matter of fact.”

“Were you aware Derek was heading into a confrontation with a man he shot not too long ago? A shooting that was responsible for his current leave of absence from the Bureau.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Yet you were willing to help him?”

“It was my understanding that Derek’s been focused on saving a young girl’s life. That’s what I was helping him to see through to fruition.”