Eye of the Storm (10 page)

"Apparently not. Anyway, I was about to leave for the rendezvous when the shooter found me. And now, more or less, you know as much as I do."

"There's nothing here to give you any idea where the threat is coming from?" Reece frowned, studying the postcard again.

"No. But there wouldn't be. There was a huge risk in just saying as much as Maurice did. There are still a lot of bureaucrats and politicians who'd like to hang D-9 out to dry, along with any of its supporters. The U.S. took a lot of heat over Sangre de Cristo. And D-9 unveiled would make a perfect scapegoat. That's why we were disbanded in the first place."

"So just the fact that Baxter risked sending this means there's real danger." Reece was back to leaning against the table.

"Yes," Simone said. "That's why I cleared out as soon as I got it. Or I would have if Martin hadn't been shot."

"Sorry." He cringed, looking suddenly more like a kid than a man.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." Reece's anger laced his words, making them sound more sharp than intended.

"It's my fault, Martin." Simone wished she could turn back the clock and change things. If she'd never met Reece. Never allowed him past her defenses, then neither of them would be sitting here right now.

"You couldn't have known the guy was coming. It's been a long time, right?" There was something deeply moving about Martin's faith in her. It was one thing to put lip service to the idea of their being family and quite another to see that it was in fact the truth.

She nodded, struggling for words. "I don't even know who
he
is. But I need to get to the rendezvous to find out. Which means first thing in the morning I've got to leave."

"What do you expect us to do?" Reese asked, his ferocity daring her to answer.

But she wasn't afraid, because there wasn't a choice. "Go home. Nothing has changed."

"So, what? We're just supposed to pretend this never happened? Wipe you out of our lives? It's not that simple, Simone."

"Look, coming with me would just mean more danger. For both of you." She shot a significant look toward Martin, knowing Reece would never purposely place his brother in danger.

"I just need a little lead time." She hated the note of pleading in her voice, but anything else would only lead to more angry words.

"To disappear."

"To head for the rendezvous and figure out what the hell it is I'm facing. And yes, to disappear. At least as Simone Sheridan." She used Reece's name without even thinking. The link was the last thing she had that made her real. Without it she'd become a shadow again.

Reece clenched and unclenched his fist, the little muscle in his jaw working overtime. She held her breath, waiting for him to comment. To tell her how angry he was, to blame her for everything that happened. But he didn't say anything at all. Just turned on his heel and strode from the room, his broad back signaling the end of all of her dreams.

"YOU HAVEN'T SAID a word in almost an hour." Martin said over the voices of the ten-o'clock news team. "Even for you that's a record."

"I don't know what to say. Shit, I don't know what to think. Part of me wants to throttle her, and part of me wants to well, hell...throttle her. God, she makes me so damn angry."

"That's because you care."

"It's because she lied."

"Well then, come sunup we'll just ride away and forget all about this."

"Like hell we will."

"So we're staying?" Martin's expression held equal parts triumph and trepidation.

"I am." Reece was quick to throw a blanket on any ideas Martin might have about coming along. On that fact, he and Simone were in total agreement.

"What about me?"

"You're going home. Or at least somewhere out of the line of fire."

"What if she won't let you come, either?" Martin asked, wisely avoiding an argument about his own situation.

"It's not like she really has any choice. Either I can go with her, or I'll just follow her." He hadn't realized he'd made up his mind until he heard himself say it out loud.

"She's CIA." The sentence spoke for itself, but Reece wasn't in the mood for common sense.

"And I used to be a Ranger."

"A million years ago." And he didn't even mean it as an insult.

"That doesn't mean I'm not up to the task. I'm not exactly an old geezer."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It just wasn't yesterday. But then Simone's been out of the game a while, too. And look at how well you did with the car chase."

"I drove my car into the ocean."

"Well, it wasn't like there weren't extenuating circumstances. Anyway, the point is you're not just some green-assed pansy lawyer."

"Thanks, I think. But maybe you're right. I'd only be a liability." The idea of helping her faded almost as quickly as it had come.

"No, that's not true. I should have just kept my mouth shut." Martin shook his head to emphasize his point. "You were right. It's really simple. Simone is in trouble and you should help her. She's your wife."

"We're divorced."

"Semantics." Martin waved his hand through the air. "Besides, I don't think she's signed the papers."

"No. I saw her signature. It's over. Believe me." He blew out a breath, his mind spinning. "Anyway, I hear what you're saying. But whether I go or not, you're not coming. That much I'm certain of."

"You are one stubborn dude." Martin cranked the volume on the television, the talking head rambling on about a charity regatta on Saturday.

Reece tried to keep his attention on the screen and off the connecting door. What he really wanted to do was go in there and confront her. To try and make sense of everything she'd told him. To make decisions together.

But that ship had sailed. Hell, as of today, they weren't even married anymore.

Which under the circumstances ought to be a good thing, considering what she'd put them through, at least indirectly, in the past twenty-four hours. The fact was, the Simone he'd fallen in love with didn't exist. It ought to make him feel self-righteous. But instead it just made him ache. For what he'd lost. For what he'd thought he had.

Damn it all to hell, she might as well have just shot him. It would have been less painful than having his guts scraped out and dumped on the floor.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut it all out. Part of him wanted to walk out the door. But another part of him simply couldn't leave her on her own. Competent or otherwise, she needed someone to watch her back.

Rule number one in the military.

And despite all the hostility between them, he simply couldn't countenance the idea of it being anyone but him.

"Hey, Reece," Martin's voice interrupted his internal tirade, "get a load of this." His brother nodded toward the TV and Reece focused on the droning voice. "They're saying you may have had a hand in our disappearance."

"What?" Simone's picture flashed on the screen, followed by Martin's. And then the anchors were off to a story about food poisoning at a local Mexican joint.

"According to the report, the police are investigating you in regard to our disappearance. Something about a lover's triangle." Martin was still frowning at the television.

Reece winced. "It can't be based on anything. I told you I called the police. Why the hell would I have done that if I was guilty?"

He grabbed the remote and changed to another station, but they had already moved on to sports. Fox and CBS were the same. He flipped the TV off, sinking down on the bed. "So what are they claiming?"

"According to the report, they found blood and spent casings hidden in a trash can. The theory is you cleaned things up and then tried to cover it all with a call to the locals."

"That's insane."

"Well, considering no one has been abducted, I tend to agree." Martin held his hands up in defense. "What do you say you try not to kill me after the fact?"

"Did you see the news?" Simone pushed through the connecting door, eyes flashing. "That son of a bitch set us up."

"The bullets and blood?" Reece asked, running the facts back through his head.

"Yeah.  And they're saying I ran off with Martin.  Seems they got the idea from your friend Tom."

"Hell," Reece said, blowing out a long breath. "He had the balls to suggest that there might be something between the two of you."

"No shit?" Martin managed to sound proud and pissed all at the same time.

"I told him he had it wrong. That you'd never do something like that." He shot his brother a warning look, and smug was replaced by contrite.

"If you guys would holster the testosterone for a minute, we've got bigger problems than whether your brother has the cajones to take me on."

"But it's all bullshit," Martin said, frowning. "Everyone's fine."

"We know that. But taking the information to the cops is going to cause more than a few questions."

Reece ran his hand through his hair, feeling a hell of a lot like he'd fallen onto the White Queen's checkerboard. "So you're saying that clearing my name is going to put you in danger." .

"I'm saying it's playing right into his hands."

"The killer."

She shrugged. "Someone put that stuff in the trash. And someone put your fingerprints on it."

"Fingerprints?" Reece frowned.

"According to the news report, the casings had your prints on them."

"So you were right, the shooter doubled back for the setup?"

"Exactly."

"But what's his angle? I'm not sure I see the value of framing me for something that I can prove I didn't do."

"Well, that remains to be seen, actually. If he'd succeeded in taking us out at the cottage, then you'd have taken the fall for him."

"But we got out alive..." Martin began.

"Yes, we did. And I was all set to go to ground. If this guy knows anything about me, he's more than aware that if I choose to stay lost, I can do it."

"But he's found you twice. So it makes sense he'd believe he could find you again."

"Not necessarily. I wasn't on the run in Corpus, didn't even know I was being hunted. And if he had any idea of our history, then eventually he was going to find the cottage. It was just the best I could do under extreme circumstances."

"So you're saying he's worried that if you go to ground now, he'll lose the trail." Reece studied Simone, impressed with her logic, realizing he'd seen it before in countless ways. Like when she'd helped him sort through the minutiae of difficult cases, or dealt with the ups and downs of Martin's adolescence, or managed the ins and out of remodeling their house—daily problems solved in a way that Reece had never truly appreciated.

"Right," she agreed, pulling him out of his ruminations. "So he manipulates the situation to his advantage. Not a slam dunk, mind you. But an odds-on shot. There's a weird sense of logic here." She sat down on the bed, chewing the side of her lip, the gesture familiar and foreign all at the same time. "I mean, if the killer jams you up for my disappearance, he knows one of two things will happen. Either I'll come forward to clear your name, and I'm back in his sights again."

"Or," Reece continued, following her train of thought, "you'll be forced to travel with us. At least until you can figure out what's what. And three people traveling together are easier to track than one."

"Exactly."

"So we need to split up." After all his internal debating, it seemed the decision had been made for him.

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure that's an option anymore."

"What the hell are you talking about? Not more than an hour ago you were dead set on exactly that."

"Things have changed." She'd lowered her voice, her attention shooting to Martin, who had fallen asleep despite their arguing.

Reece followed her into the adjoining room. "So now you're saying we shouldn't split up?" He'd lost all perspective on the argument. Which was how it always was with Simone, her mercurial changes of position sometimes leaving him dizzy with the effort to keep up.

"I'm saying that you're going to be a target wherever you are. If the killer gets to you, he gets to me. It's as simple as that."

"But we're divorced." They were standing nose to nose now, their voices contained, but nonetheless fierce.

"Like that matters." She waved off his words with her hand. "I was married to you for almost six years. I don't think that I can wipe all that out just because we can't get along anymore. We may be officially kaput. But the guy after me is well aware of the fact that I don't just erase relationships. Hell, I'm loyal to a fault. That little character trait almost kept me out of D-9. If I hadn't been so damn good at other things, it probably would have."

She'd just told him more about herself in two seconds than she'd told him in the whole of their marriage. Maybe there was something to this divorce stuff after all.

"Look, I don't need a fucking babysitter." He was doing it again, arguing against the very thing he'd thought he wanted in the first place. How the hell did she manage it?

"Normally I'd agree. But you have no idea the kind of people I deal with."

"Dealt with," he corrected, his anger blending with something else, something that he wasn't about to try and put a name to.

"Considering your brother is in there recovering from a bullet wound, I'd hardly say past tense."

"So where the hell do we go from here?" The minute the words were out, he wished them back, knowing that he was no longer referring to the killer and his manipulations.

"I don't know," she said, dropping down on the end of the bed. It wasn't an answer, but the words were genuine.

"Look, Simone." He sat down next to her on the bed, relieved when she didn't immediately move away. "I know you didn't mean for this to happen."

"That doesn't change the fact that it did. Or the fact that I don't know who is behind it or why."

"Isn't there someone from your D-9 days that jumps out at you?"

She shook her head. "Our missions weren't sunshine and light, you know? The list of possibles is pretty damn long. But Maurice will know. That's why I've got to get to the rendezvous." She looked up, her eyes dark with worry. "If the killer could find me, he's capable of finding the others, too. Maybe he already has."

"He can't be everywhere at once."

"Yes. But he could have help. Or maybe the guy here is only a hired gun. I don't know. That's the point. I need to find out."

"So what do you want to do?" He resisted the urge to reach out and take her hands. They weren't married anymore.

"According to my GPS—" she reached over and picked up her cell phone "—the rendezvous point is in southwestern Colorado. Somewhere in the San Juan Mountains. I figure the sooner I get there, the sooner I'll have a handle on what's happening."

"And you want me to come along."

"I think it's for the best. Martin, too." Reece opened his mouth to argue, but she waved him quiet. "I know what you're thinking. And in theory I agree. But honestly, I don't know that there's anywhere we can stash Martin that the killer can't find him. Martin isn't exactly adept at this kind of thing. Better for you both to come with me to the rendezvous. Maurice will know what to do. He'll find a way to set things right for you. And make you safe."

"You put a lot of store in this guy."

"That's because I trust him. " She laughed, the sound pleasant after all the anger.

"Sounds like D-9 was more than just a blacks-ops division." He kept his voice gentle, as if he were leading a witness.

"We were really young," she offered by way of explanation, her mind on images of the past. "I was just sixteen." Reece resisted the urge to comment. Sixteen was too damn young for black ops, no matter how talented she might have been.

"The others weren't much older. At least physically. Emotionally we'd all grown up hard and fast. So there was commonality from the very beginning. We were a ragtag family of sorts. And Maurice did everything he could to make certain we stayed that way."