Deadly Games (31 page)

8:55 p.m.

Ian sat, the D.C. night glittering beyond the window of his boss’s office. The Capitol building shone white, beckoning.

And this was it.

“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving,” Pete said yet again.

Ian turned from his study of the nightlife and looked across to the man he’d met so many years ago after he successfully completed a mission in the 75th. This man had found him and recruited him. His life was never the same.

“You regret it?” Pete asked, lighting a cigar.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You could offer me a departing cigar.” He opened his eyes. “Like a celebration.”

“Or a death.” Pete didn’t offer him the humidor. “Besides, you’ve quit. And if you slid now, you’d have to start all over again.”

Ian shook his head. “You always were a hard ass.”

Those hard lips flashed into a rare smile or what could only pass as a smile on Pete Jones.

“If you ever need a job.…” Pete left it open.

Ian shook his head. “No thank you. I’ve had enough of shadows and games to last me way past this lifetime.” He wanted to pace or tap his foot. He did neither.

Pete nodded and blew out a plume of smoke. “Well, you’ll be delighted to know that the remains of Dimitri Petrolov, his guard, Jean Tabeier, and another guard, belonging to local club owner were all identified.”

“And?”

Pete shrugged. “The remains were cremated tonight.”

Ian grunted. It was over … almost.

He scratched the side of his mouth with his index finger. “Guess I need to turn my gun in.”

Pete raised a brow. “What gun?”

Ian waited a moment, then smiled. “Only one last loose end to tie up.”

“Two,” Pete corrected and leaned up, his maroon leather chair squeaking. He pursed his lips, tapped the desk and leaned back again. “About to become one.”

“Really? Care to expound on that Pete?”

Something shifted his hazel eyes and he huffed a breath out. “Don’t ever get married.”

Ian frowned, wondering what the hell that had to do with anything. Pete had been married now for … well, several years to his second wife. Quiet woman who worked in an accounting firm.

“Pete, I want a name,” he said, returning to the topic. “I want to know who blew my cover.”

Pete stood and walked to the window, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the 203

shirt sleeves rolled up. “You’ll get one, when I know for certain. Until then, you’ll wait.

You’ll be notified if I find out anything for certain.” He glanced at Ian and those eyes were as hard as he’d ever seen. “I don’t take the fact your cover, and others, was blown way the hell open, any more lightly than you do. And probably a hell of a lot more serious than even you would imagine. It’s not just you we’re learning. There were others, are others.…” He rubbed his forehead. “Christ.” Without looking at Ian, he said, “Go home to your family, Ian Kinncaid. Your work here is done.”

Ian stood, slapped Pete on the back. “Why do I feel like you left off the ‘until we need you’ bit?”

Without waiting for a response, he walked out of the office. The secretary wasn’t at her normal post.

An armed guard nodded to him and let him out the door. It shut and locked behind him.

John leaned against the wall by a bank of elevators, two carryon bags at his feet.

They walked through the lobby, across the Defense Intelligence Agency’s seal and out into the cold November night.

John waited as Ian flagged down a cab. As they stepped off the curb, John slapped him on the shoulder. “Feels different, doesn’t it?” He grinned. “Ready to really get to work now partner?”

* * * *

10:34 pm

Ian Kinncaid shut the cab door. John climbed out the other side.

“I’m so bloody jet lagged,” John complained.

“Could have stayed in London.”

He raised a brow. “And missed all this? What do you take me for?”

Ian shoved some bills at the cabby and grabbed his bag. The paper on the cheap convenience store flowers crinkled in his hand. He’d made the cabby stop and bought two bundles. He looked at them. One was rather a sad case of mums and lilies. The other colored daisies. Looking at his friend, as they walked up the lighted walkway, he said,

“Johnno, be honest. You just can’t stand not being part of whatever shit I have going on.”

“Oh, that’s most definitely it.”

They walked up the steps and Ian unlocked the door.

“You could ask your parents for a key instead of picking the bloody locks.”

“Where,” he asked, “is the fun in that?”

They’d left Amsterdam at ten a.m. and arrived in D.C. at six pm. local time. The next two hours were meetings with Pete. The leak issue still bothered him on more levels than one.

Pete hadn’t really answered him. Which was odd. He thought back over the conversation and wished he wasn’t so damn tired. He’d asked about the leak, and Pete had mentioned marriage. Why?

He knew Pete was with his second wife. They’d been married for … six years?

Wasn’t it? At the time, back in Pete’s office, Ian had assumed his boss had merely been trying to change the topic.

But something….

Unless….

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No. Surely not.

Ian shook off the thoughts and stepped into the darkened hallway.

Forget it. He was tired. Pete said he’d call. Pete would call.

Ian on the other hand, hadn’t called Rori, and maybe he should have, but he wanted to surprise her too.

The house was dark and quiet.

“They turned in early tonight,” Ian muttered, figuring someone would still be up.

“Did you let Roth know we were coming?” John asked him.

“No,” said a voice from the shadows. Roth stepped out and reholstered his gun.

“Idiots. I could have shot you.”

Ian smiled. “You wouldn’t have. You don’t shoot first and ask questions later unless the situation entitles that. And this didn’t.”

Roth grunted. “Lucky for you.”

“Where is everyone?”

Roth glared at him. “Trying to get some sleep.”

“Why, what’s been going on?”

Roth said, “First off, your brother and sister-in-law had their baby. Girl, get the details from your mother. Or your dad.” Roth shook his head. “Never seen such a camera happy man. Secondly, Darya’s usually up several times a night screaming.”

Ian didn’t wait for the rest, but hurried up the stairs, the bag in one hand, the flowers in the other. At the top, he walked quickly down the hallway to his daughter’s door. Pushing it gently open, he saw the soft glow the lamp on the dresser cast on the room. Rori slept in a chair beside the bed, half lying on the bed, her hand on Darya’s chest. On the nightstand stood bottles of medicine and tissues. A thermometer. Quietly, he set the bag down by the door, laid the flowers on top of it. He walked across the room and stood beside the bed looking down at his daughter, covered with the blue comforter.

Her cheeks were flushed and in her hand, a top the cover, was clasped the photo he’d given her. From the crinkled edges, it appeared she’d never let go of the thing. He reached out and put his hand to her forehead. She was burning up. Worry thrummed through him.

Rori jerked.

“Easy,” he whispered, laying his hand atop hers.

Rori’s eyes opened and she sat up, stretching. “You’re home.”

Home….

He looked at her, sitting here exhausted beside their sick daughter.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m home.”

“Thank God. Everything went all right, then?” she asked, putting her hand to Rori’s forehead and then checking her watch. “Another hour and we can give her something else.”

“What the hell is going on?” he asked quietly, sitting on Darya’s other side.

“Well, your daughter hasn’t eaten a single bite since you left. We’ve managed to get some water in her and now meds, but she wouldn’t eat. Hardly slept. Just kept watching for you.”

He ran his hand over Darya’s dark curls scattered over the white pillowcase. His daughter….

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“I’ve been gone for over forty-eight hours. She was that sick?”

Rori chuckled. “We don’t know if she was already coming down with something or if the combination of stress, her not eating, and not sleeping triggered the illness.” She shrugged and brushed her hand down Darya’s flannel clad arm. “Your mother mentioned it could have been anything.”

He frowned and felt Darya’s face again. “She’s too hot.”

Rori nodded. “Yeah, goes up and down. Anywhere from ninety-nine to one-ohfour or five.”

“What?” the worry turned to fear. “Did you take her to the doctor?”

Both her brows rose. “I called your mother, who did her doctor thing, called some antibiotics in this afternoon and who told me what to do.”

His mother. He relaxed slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, worry still winding through his blood.

“S’all right. I just didn’t know what the hell to do. Asked Becky, called your mom. Vented to Nikko and then to Roth.” Her hands rubbed her short hair. “I didn’t know what the bloody hell to do. I mean, she’s so little and what do I know of kids?”

He reached across the bed and pulled her to him, kissing her softly on the mouth.

“You did fine. Go get some sleep. I’ll watch her for awhile.”

Rori frowned. “You’re jet lagged. I can see it.” She shook her head. “You rest. I’ll give her the grape medicine in another forty-five minutes and then when it goes back down, I’ll catch a few ‘z’s.”

Ian just watched her, noted her eyes were shadowed, the skin on her own cheeks a bit pale. “I slept on the plane. Fourteen hours and I was tired. I got at least six which looks like more than you.”

She looked exhausted, disgruntled and adoring. He smiled.

“What?” she snapped, frowning.

“You look wonderful.” And she did. “And I missed you.”

Shaking her head, she stood, then walked around the bed, leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Wake me in four hours.”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Night.”

“Night.”

He looked at his daughter. Sitting on the bed, he pulled her into his lap and held her. Her hot face and head heated his neck and collarbone. He kissed the curls atop her head.

It was good to be home. And he’d make certain she got better as soon as possible.

“Hey sweetie, Daddy’s home.”

206

November 20; 7:29 a.m.

The next morning after breakfast, his phone rang. Ian answered.

“Hello?”

“You wanted an update,” Pete’s voice, always devoid of emotion seemed hollow, even for him.

“Just a minute.” He nodded to Rori and walked out the double doors leading outside. “Okay.”

“That loose end we discussed has just been cut.”

Just like that. Anger and the fact he was denied justice licked through him, quick as a rattler. “You promised me a name.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Damn it, Pete. I had a right to know.”

“Yes you did. And so did others.”

“Pete.”

“Ian.”

“What?”

For a moment, the man didn’t answer him, then he said, “I don’t have time for this. I have a funeral to plan.”

Ian blinked, shook his head. “What? I mean. Hell, I’m sorry, Pete. For wh-who?”

Strange they’d worked so long together, knew such dark things about the other and yet knew so little.

Again the silence.

“The woman I trusted … my wife.”

Ian frowned, then pulled back. The loose end…. Pete’s wife? Ian wasn’t exactly surprised. Sometimes it was those closest, but still…

“Uh--Pete. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“I would have.…” helped seemed the wrong word. Damn.

Pete cleared his throat. “It was a matter I had to see to personally.”

With that the man hung up.

Ian took a deep breath, a chill dancing down his back.

Just when he thought he was as far into the darkness as he could go, he was reminded there were shadows he still hadn’t journeyed.

It was a matter I had to see to personally.…

And those shadows Ian didn’t want to visit. Ever.

Turning back around, he looked through the doors at Darya wrapped in a quilt on the couch, leaning against Rori.

Maybe, just maybe their lives could get on the right track now.

Whatever that track was. He didn’t want to push it. Didn’t know, suddenly what the hell to do. What did he do?

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About anything?

He had no orders. No one that needed to be found right this moment…

Rori looked up at him and smiled.

And then he knew. Ian opened the door and walked into the living room just as his parents came in.

“You two simply have to go to the hospital,” his mother said. “Have you gotten your brother and Taylor anything?” she asked.

Ian shook his head and shut the door behind him. “I thought I was supposed to get the baby something.”

Rori didn’t turn to look, but he caught her grin as she watched the television and stroked her hand over Darya’s head.

His mother handed him a piece of paper. “Go take a shower, take your wife out.

We’ll watch Darya.”

He looked at the paper and saw it was a list. “What is this?”

His mother shrugged. “Things Darya needs.”

Doll house. Barbies. Books. Several stuffed animals. Bedding. (something pink or purple--though blue or silver would work)

His mother tapped the bottom of the list. “If you don’t want to pick out the bedding, that’s fine. Rori and I can go sometime next week.”

Ian shook his head. Rori jerked around and met his gaze. He caught the plea in her eyes.

He wiggled a brow at her and turned to his mother. “Well you know us men.

We’re sure to choose the wrong fabric or color or something.”

She nodded. “I know.” His mother glanced over at the couch. “Rori and I will get what we need Monday or something.” She put her hand on his arm. “Now go and get ready. I’d also like you to pick up some nice flowers before dinner tonight.”

“We need more fever reducer medicine … whatever it’s called,” Rori said standing.Darya was asleep on the couch. Ian shook his head. “I just got back. I don’t want to go out again, Mother.”

“Bah. Go see your brother and the baby. Aiden and Jesslyn went by, but Brayden’s in Louisanna and you just got home.”

“Quinlan?” he ventured. “You should let him know --”

Her green eyes narrowed on him. “He’s been by. Last night. Promised to come tonight to dinner. He called earlier and said he was bringing a date.”

Jock muttered something that sounded vaguely like a hired woman.

Ian hid his grin, leaned over and said, “Mother, I love you, but --”

“No buts, go see your brother. If you leave now,” she glanced over her shoulder at Darya and then said back to him, “she’ll be asleep most of the time you’re gone.” Her eyebrow rose. “You worried I can’t take care of a sick child?”

He knew better than to argue that one. “I couldn’t trust anyone more with her health, Mom.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Some mothers might take issue with that wording.

Considering the goings on of late, I’ll just leave it alone.”

He laughed and pulled her close, kissing her on her forehead. “Well, I just learned 208

the leak was found and taken care of, so the guards will be leaving.”

“Thank God,” his mother said, patting his chest, and taking a deep breath.

“Who?” his father asked.

Ian looked at Rori as he said, “I don’t know. They just let me know the matter was taken care of.” Squeezing his mother he added, “I decided to leave that alone and take it at face value.”

No one said anything for a moment. Then his mother said, “So Roth will be leaving?”

He chuckled. “Not just yet.”

Jock asked, “Why not? You said guards.”

“Not my men.”

At his parent’s confused looks he added. “Tanner, Roth, and several others work for John and I. Or they do now.”

“What?” his father asked.

Ian shook his head. “Never mind. Just know, Roth will be here a bit more. Tanner is staying with Brayden, Snake with Gav, and Gar with Quinlan.”

“Why?” his mother asked.

He looked at Rori. “We should get going if we’re going to go to town and get back before dinner.”

They quickly walked out of the room before his parents bombarded them with more questions. To save time, they shared the shower, their bodies melding, sliding, holding, and reaching until both moaned, both peaked and both shuddered in aftermath.

Ian stood in the bedroom, tucking his shirt in and watched Rori--his wife--put lotion on. A simple thing that. Over the counter white lotion. She sat on the bed, her hands rubbing down her leg, gliding her knee, sliding her thigh, grazing her belly before she squirted more and then rubbed it into one arm, then the other.

She glanced at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She grinned. “Too bad we don’t have all afternoon to ourselves.”

He laughed and pulled her to him, kissing her again, feeling the cool lotion, her hot body molding against his.

“We don’t have time,” she pushed against him and he let her go.

“Tonight.”

She grinned over her shoulder, her naked back long and lean, graceful as a dancer’s. Her back side and thighs as tight as a Vegas line girl. Damn.