Eye of the Storm (12 page)

"Hey, I'm the one who's been sleeping the last twelve hours," Martin protested from the back. "You all are the ones who could use the sleep."

"If someone's on our tail, I'm not sure stopping is a wise idea." Simone tipped back her head, rubbing her neck. "We can stop when we're nearer the rendezvous. Assuming the coordinates work this time."

"They will." Reece reached over to cover her hand with his, the gesture as automatic as breathing. For a moment they held the contact, synapses firing, and then the road straightened, the pullout on their left indicating they'd reached the pass.

Behind him in the mirror, Reece saw two headlights breaking through the gloom. They'd passed several vehicles, but this was the first one to come from behind, "there's someone behind us."

Simone twisted in her seat. "It's too far away to see anything."

"It looks dark. Maybe black or blue. What color was the car in the parking lot?" Martin asked.

"I'd say black, but I wouldn't swear by it. Simone?"

"Definitely dark. Black or maybe dark green. Not blue though. And definitely not a Lexus like before. This one was domestic. I'd say a Cadillac or maybe a Lincoln."

"Lincoln," Martin said, frowning. "I remember seeing the crosshairs."

"Crosshairs?" Simone swiveled to look at him.

"Their symbol. It was on the front of the car. Kinda hard to miss from my angle, only I didn't think about it until you mentioned it."

"So he's changed cars." Reece frowned as the headlights drew closer.

"Or we're looking at two separate people." Martin sat back against the faded upholstery. The Buick had been around the block more than a couple of times.

"No. More likely he switched. It would keep us off guard and keep anyone else from tracing him. It's what I'd do."

"What you did do, actually." Reece tipped his head toward the dashboard. "We're on our third vehicle."

She shot him a look, clearly trying to ascertain if he'd meant the comment as a dig. And he wondered how they'd come to a place where every word had to be analyzed. When they'd first met, they couldn't stop talking, holding hands under the stars on the beach like a couple of teenagers.

They'd stayed up all night on their first date, just trading thoughts, ideas. As stupid as it sounded now, they'd shared hopes and dreams. He'd never met anyone like her. She seemed so free and uncluttered. As if nothing had ever touched her.

In retrospect, he supposed it should have been a warning. What had appeared to be a free spirit was in fact a mechanism she used to hide her past. And he of all people should have seen it. But instead he'd buried his head in the sand. Some deeper part of him sensing that there was more to her—something darker that he simply hadn't been willing to face.

"I only meant you're good at what you do." He'd meant to be reassuring, but somehow it came out sounding condescending and he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut.

"I know," Simone said without really meaning it, her focus on the sideview mirror. There was a moment of awkward silence and then she leaned forward. "He's getting closer."

Reece increased his speed. The downhill stretch was more dangerous than the climb to the pass—the grade steep and the curves tightly banked. He couldn't risk accelerating too much. On these roads it would be easy to spin out of control. "Maybe we should just pull off. See if he passes us. There's a pullout ahead." The state of Colorado was proud of its topography and correspondingly had rest stops or scenic overlooks every few miles on most of its mountain roads.

"It's not a bad idea," Simone said, opening the glove compartment. She produced a gun. A Glock by the looks of it. "You remember how to use this, right?" It was an honest question, but Reece felt a surge of inadequacy nevertheless. His wife was black ops. Past tense or present tense, she was a force to be reckoned with.

"The Rangers are nothing to sneeze at." Even after their separation, she was still able to read his mind. Especially when he didn't want it read.

"I know that. And I can handle the gun." He frowned as he took a hand off the wheel to take it from her. "Where'd you get it?"

"I bought it in Victoria. While you and Martin were checking out."

"There's a three-day wait in Texas."

She laughed, the first genuine one he'd heard in a while. "You just don't know where to shop."

"You get a gun for me?" Martin asked, almost hopefully.

"No." Reece and Simone said almost in unison. At least there were some things they could agree on.

"Sorry, Martin. Not a good idea," Simone added. "You don't have any experience."

"Just remember I'm the guy with the big red target." He slumped back in the seat, crossing his arms in dejection.

"When we get to the cabin, I'll try and show you a few things, okay?" As pacifiers went it wasn't the best, but it seemed to satisfy Martin, who sat up again and turned to survey the car behind them.

"I think he's closer. How far to the pullout?"

"Should be any minute." Reece peered ahead into the gloom, the sparkle of headlights against a road sign signaling he was right. "We're almost there. Everyone hold on. I'm going to do this at the last minute."

The overlook was on the left side of the highway, which meant crossing over oncoming lanes of traffic. Fortunately, the road ahead appeared to be empty.

Simone lowered the window halfway and lifted the gun. "Ready."

Reece adjusted the Glock so that it was braced against his thigh, ready to grab when and if it was needed. He sped up just enough to lose the other car as he rounded a bend and spotted the exit. "Okay, this is it."

He pulled the wheel to the left without slowing and the car skidded into the turn, the back wheels sliding, then catching the road. The car jerked forward across both lanes of oncoming traffic and into the overlook.

A horseshoe-shaped road curved toward the edge of the mountain and then back to the road again. Reece took the Buick to the center, hit the brakes, killed the lights and grabbed the Glock.

Holding his breath, he stared out the window, silently counting off the seconds until the other car appeared. Definitely not a Lincoln or a Lexus. More likely a Toyota or Honda. It was impossible to tell in this light. The car clearly slowed as it neared the exit, but after hesitating a fraction of a second, it sped up again, its taillights disappearing around the next bend.

"We did it!" Martin said on a whoop.

"We don't even know for certain that he was following us." Reece released the breath and the gun at the same time.

"Either way, we do seem to have managed to evade him. Good driving." Simone was still watching out the window.

"So what now?" Martin asked, a note of worry creeping back in his voice, his elation only momentary.

"We wait. See if he comes back." There was an edge to her voice Reece had never heard before—authority and control.

Simone was in her element in a way he'd never before witnessed. It was almost as if she were a stranger. But then again, that wasn't quite right, either. It was more like she was revealing parts of herself he'd never been privy to in the past. The idea should have made him feel better, but it didn't. It only made him feel more alone.

"And if he does come back?" Martin's eyes widened in anticipation of her answer, and Reece pulled his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

"Then we'll be ready." She checked the Sig, and shot a significant look toward the Glock.

"In the meantime, why don't I run the coordinates through the program again. We're clearly on the other side of the pass." Reece shoved the gun between his back and his jeans, the feel of the barrel against his skin oddly comforting. Ignoring the sensation, he reached for the GPS and typed in the coordinates.

The machine made a chirping sound and then the map changed, this one more precise than its predecessors. "We're in."

Simone leaned closer, her hair brushing against her cheek, and he fought the urge to push it behind her ear. Martin leaned forward, looking over Reece's shoulder at the screen he held in his hand.

"We're in luck. The rendezvous is just outside of Creede. Maybe ten, twelve miles."

"Which means we've still got a pretty good drive ahead of us." Simone sighed, rubbing her temples.

"You okay?" he asked, fighting to keep his tone neutral. She might not be his wife anymore, but damn it, that didn't mean he didn't care.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired." She turned back toward the window. "Why don't we wait here a half hour or so and then head for your friend's cabin. The sooner we reach the rendezvous, the sooner we'll find out what this is all about."

If there was anyone alive to tell them.

According to Simone, five members of D-9 had been relocated. Add in Baxter and that made six. Not exactly an army. And if the killer could find Simone, there was no reason to believe he wouldn't have been able to find the others.

And if he'd gotten to the other operatives first—there was every possibility that the three of them were on their own.

THE CABIN WAS basically three rooms on the side of a mountain. A remodeled miner's shack that had seen better days. But at the moment it was warm and dry and represented at least a hint of security.

Not that it meant anything to have such thoughts. Her old life was gone. All that remained was the fact that she'd inadvertently dragged Martin and Reece along for the ride. But that was about to end, too. Once she'd met up with the team, they'd figure out a way to get her family out of the line of fire. Get them back to Corpus and the sanity of their normal lives. All of this would just be a nightmare.

One she hoped they'd soon forget.

She swallowed the bitterness rising inside her, and walked into the living room and over to the window. Moonlight streamed through it, spilling onto the faded carpet. Martin and Reece were sleeping in the loft. She'd given the other bedroom her best shot, but tossing and turning wasn't accomplishing anything. So she'd given up, deciding her time was better spent going over the events of the past few days. Maybe there was something she'd missed, something that would help her figure out who was behind the attacks.

She hadn't lied when she'd said the list was long. There'd been secrecy to their missions, and there certainly weren't any records of their activities, but that didn't mean D-9 had gone unnoticed. There were always leaks. And though ancillary staff had been need-to-know only, there'd been times when others had had access to various details of their operations.

D-9 hadn't been an observation-only kind of organization. By the time they were called in, there was usually a mess, their job to make it go away. There hadn't been room for squeamishness. And the trail of bodies was long and in some cases memorable.

Hector Ramirez being a case in point.

It hadn't been their intention for him to be a casualty. But that didn't change the fact that he was dead. And his organization had been a big one. Assuming somehow they'd gotten access to D-9's operatives' identities, it could mean a long list of enemies.

She fingered the postcard in her pocket. Someone had obviously managed the feat. Whether it was Ramirez's people or someone else, the danger was real. It was tempting to leave this minute, to head for the rendezvous and end the suspense, but she doubted anyone was there. The instructions all those years ago had been to wait— three days—to give everyone time to get there.

Tomorrow was the day. Best to wait for it. Nothing was ever gained acting in haste. She thought of her marriage. It was the only impulsive thing she'd ever done. At least since D-9 had plucked her quite literally from the gutter.

And reinvented her.

She'd been three people in her life. The first not worth remembering. The second a trained killer, someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain. And the third—the most important of the three. Wife and lover. Reece's wife and lover. She'd loved him so damn much. Given everything she was capable of giving. Unfortunately, that hadn't been enough.

She pulled her thoughts away from the maudlin, scanning the area outside the window for signs of intruders. This was the here and now, and she'd do well to stay focused. It was the only way they were going to stay alive.

"Why didn't you tell me, Simone?" Reece's voice reached out of the darkness behind her, rasping down her spine. She spun around, searching the shadows for his face. He was sitting on the sofa, his feet propped up on the table. If she hadn't known him so well, she might have mistaken his posture for relaxed. But Reece never really relaxed, and his intensity was reflected in his stillness.

"I couldn't."

"Don't give me that. I loved you. You could have told me anything."

She flinched at his use of the past tense, and then lifted her chin, defiance her only armor. "That's not true. It might seem like that now. But you weren't in love with me. You were in love with the
idea
of me. The reality would have been more than you could handle, believe me."

"So what? You just made the decision for me?"

"You have no idea what I've done in my life. The kinds of things I've been party to." Hell, compared to her childhood, D-9 seemed tame. At least with the division somebody always had her back.

"I think maybe I have some idea. Considering we've spent the last couple of days running for our lives."

"This is nothing. Believe me." She leaned against the windowsill, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling suddenly cold.

"You want my sweater?" Reece moved to take it off, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine."

They were silent for a moment, and she worked to sort through her cascading emotions. "Look, in part I didn't tell you because it was better for you not to know."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she waved him quiet. "But I also didn't say anything because I was afraid. I wanted what we had. And I thought that if you knew the truth you wouldn't want me anymore. Everything happened so fast between us. I mean, one minute you weren't in my life at all and the next you were my life. Those first months we were together were incendiary. You were part of me and I was part of you to the degree that I sometimes lost track of who was who. And then once it had all burned down to something more stable, it was too late. I couldn't just tell you that I wasn't the woman you'd fallen in love with."

"You didn't trust me." There was accusation in his voice, and unless she was completely misreading him, a note of disappointment, as well.

"That's not true. I trusted you more than anyone I've ever known. I just couldn't trust you with this."

"But this is everything, Simone."

"Maybe. I don't know. I only know that what started as a sin of omission took wings and began to take over my life. I couldn't be who I was. And I couldn't be who I was pretending to be. I was alone. And I was afraid."

"But you weren't alone. That's the part that I can't understand. I was there with you every step of the way. All you had to do was tell me."

"You make it sound so easy. But it's not that simple. When I found myself out of D-9 with the chance for something new, something untouched by my past, I grabbed it with both hands. It's not that I didn't trust you, Reece. It's just that I honestly believed the past was better left buried. It was over."

"If you really believed it was over, why the money and IDs hidden in the house? Why the secret postcard and GPS coordinates? Come on, Simone, give me a break. You didn't believe it was over."

"The money and IDs were part of the package we got when we were relocated. A contingency along with the GPS coordinates in case things went south."

"But you kept them all this time."

"Old habit. I don't know, maybe part of me always knew this would happen. But that doesn't change the fact that I truly
wanted
to believe it was over. You were offering me the chance at a real life. And I wanted that. I wanted you. So I wasn't about to do anything that would have endangered my chances. Surely you can see that?"

"What I see is a woman I thought I knew—a woman I pledged my life to—standing here trying to justify why she couldn't tell me the truth. How the hell could we have built anything worthwhile if it was all based on lies?"

"But it wasn't all lies. I was more myself with you than I have ever been in my whole life. You have to believe that. You gave me something I'd never had before. You gave me security. You gave me a family. For the first time ever, I belonged somewhere. Not because I was nimble-fingered or could handle a gun or infiltrate a junta, but just because I was me."

"Now who's in love with the idea more than the reality?" He stood up, closing the distance between them, and reflexively Simone pressed back against the window.

They stood for a moment—silence reigning—the emotion pulled taut between them like an aerial wire. "You gave me a way out. A chance at normalcy. I took it. I won't apologize for that."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking how it was that you could say you loved me in one breath and lie to me in the next?"

She shrugged, the gesture meant to be casual but somehow taking on deeper significance. "Maybe because I don't know any other way."

"That's not good enough." He leaned forward, his dark eyes locking with hers.

"Then maybe it's because you made it difficult for me to do anything else." She pushed off the windowsill, the gap between them now only inches. She might be a lot of things, but she was not a coward, and she would not bear the responsibility for their failed marriage all on her own.

"You wanted someone to fill the void your parents left. You wanted a perfect marriage like theirs. So I gave you what you wanted. No messy past, no imperfections. Just a loving wife who never demanded that you take the time to get to know her. The truth is, Reece, you didn't want to know who I really was. And while that doesn't excuse my not telling you, it sure as hell played into the equation."

He studied her for a second, his eyes narrowed as he digested her words. "If I didn't probe, it was because I didn't think there was any reason to. For God's sake, I believed in you."

"That's why you hired the detective?"

There was a flicker of guilt. "Blame it on my occupation. I look for inconsistencies. It's a force of habit. And when I found out your story about small-town Ohio was straight from the pages of a magazine, I wanted to know why. You wouldn't explain it so I arranged to find out on my own."

"Except you didn't find anything."

"Nothing conclusive. I couldn't prove that you lived there, and I couldn't prove that you hadn't. I can see now this Baxter fellow was probably manipulating things. At the time I was just more confused. And I felt shut out of my own marriage."

"But my past had nothing whatsoever to do with our present."

"It had everything to do with it, Simone. It's part and parcel of who you are. You were right—I was in love with a fantasy. But one of your making, not mine." He reached out to cup her chin with his hand, his touch deceptively gentle. "And for the record—I would have understood. I loved you. And that would have been enough."

Silence stretched between them, and she leaned forward, wanting nothing more than the feel of his lips against hers. The remembered comfort of his embrace, the slow heat that built until she couldn't breathe. Her marriage had been the only time in her life she'd been part of something real. Something that transcended the ugliness of life. And even though she knew it couldn't be real, she longed to go back there again, if even for a moment.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her cheek, his gaze locked with hers, and then suddenly he let her go, turning away and walking from the room. She clutched her chest as if physically trying to stop the pain. It radiated through her, white-hot, spreading from her heart to her belly, leaving her fighting for breath, unable to move.

Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she brushed them angrily away. She was not going to cry. She'd done what she had to do. To protect herself, to protect her husband.

And if she had it to do over again, she'd do everything exactly the same. Which meant that in part Reece was right. She hadn't trusted him. Not completely.

And now she was paying the price.

******

BREAKFAST CONSISTED of powdered-sugar doughnuts and frosted flakes. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but Martin had been in charge of shopping. Simone sat in silence at one end of the table and Reece sat at the other, trying not to stare at his ex-wife. She looked the same. The curve of her cheek, the soft sheen of her hair. If he hadn't known differently, he'd have thought the morning was no different from any of the others they'd shared during their marriage.

Except that somehow he'd crossed through the mirror, everything turned inside out as if he were Alice through the looking glass.

Martin was still in the loft, his injuries or perhaps his youthful resilience allowing him unfettered sleep. Reece, on the other hand, hadn't been as lucky. He'd managed to sleep maybe an hour, and that only in twenty minute spurts, alternately checking the perimeter for signs of their stalker and pacing the living room trying to make sense of the heated words exchanged in the middle of the night.

He was more than aware of the fact that it took two to make a marriage and two to kill it. He'd never meant to imply that it was all her fault. But damn it to hell, she'd stacked the deck against him.

His head was insisting that what was done was done. That he needed to let it go and move on. But his heart wasn't having any of that. His heart wanted his wife back. Wanted the life they'd shared.

He could still remember the first time he'd met her. A blind date. A friend of a friend of a friend had set them up. His thought at the time had been that he was too old for that kind of thing. But then she'd stood there at the marina, dressed in white, with a crooked smile and a crazy hat. And he'd known right then, without even exchanging words, that she was the one.

He'd taken her out on his boat, his pride and joy even then. And she'd loved every moment of it, her laughter ringing out as he'd opened the throttle and pushed the cruiser to its limit. She'd captivated him then. And she captivated him now. It was as simple as that. And nothing— not even the pain of knowing that none of it had been real—could change that fact.