Heart in Wire: A by a Thread Companion Novel (16 page)

Patrick woke briefly when the woman next to him had to get past him to use the restroom. He knew why he was dreaming of Jamie. He was plotting to murder him; it was his mind telling him he couldn’t do it. The toll on his conscience would be detrimental to his sanity, he knew that much. He’d always thought of himself as someone who followed the rules and did the right thing; that is, until he told El that Jamie died. That started a chain of events that spiraled into chaos and he wanted to make it right for her. He needed to make it right for her. The ATF wasn’t going to let anything happen to Jamie. That became clear immediately when he’d shown up at Headquarters with his smug swagger. He’d come and sat on the edge of Patrick’s desk last week like they were buddies, but his message was all but friendly.

“So, you fucking her yet?” Jamie asked in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” Patrick answered.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened for the last five years.”

“I told you,” Patrick seethed. “I told you not to do it and you didn’t listen. Then you...” Patrick glanced around to make sure there were no ears to hear this conversation.

Jamie’s bravado faltered for a moment and then he smiled. “Almost killed her?”

“Killed three people and almost killed her,” Patrick corrected.

“She’s a tough one, isn’t she?” Jamie commented and leaned down, patting Patrick on the shoulder. “I need what’s mine, Patrick. Tell her that. If I don’t get it, it’s either her or me, and we both know how I’ll answer that challenge.” Jamie jumped off Patrick’s desk and sauntered over to another agent’s desk.

Patrick hated the way they shook hands with easy camaraderie; nobody else knew what a snake Jack Ryder was.

A woman skirted by Jamie and took her seat next to the other agent. She smelled like coconuts and it reminded him of El. Always El. His mind always went to her.

Coming back to the present, he shook his head to clear it; he didn’t want to think of El. He fought like hell not to. Did everything he could to divert his heart from the anomaly that had crashed into his carefully constructed walls and they’d crumbled at her feet. He told himself that she was like a sister to him, but the pull he fought, the need for her, remained no matter what he did. He smiled as he fell back to sleep, thinking of her black hair and green eyes, those eyes that sought him for protection. He’d protect her, he always would.

Chapter Twelve

AN UNLIKELY ALLIANCE

The flight’s descent into Atlanta woke him from his dreams. Patrick had slept on and off the entire trip to Atlanta, but dreamed of her, the reason why he was doing this. He walked through the airport in a bit of a haze, but as he stepped outside he was hit with the unreasonable warm, humid air of November in Atlanta, his purpose seared through his mind like a branding iron.

Frank was picking him up and they were meeting Jesse at his house because he was just getting back from a practice in Flowery Branch, Georgia. He spotted Frank’s truck and hustled over to it. Throwing his bag in the back, he caught Frank’s eyes and smiled. He hopped in the truck and shook Frank’s hand, happy to see him regardless of the circumstances.

El’s dad was a tough old guy. He still worked, but was getting ready to retire, and they’d become close after Jamie “died.” Patrick called Frank on a daily basis that first year to report on El and it turned into a close friendship that Patrick treasured. Frank took over the father role that Patrick had been lacking for over a decade, a relationship Patrick found himself needing more and more. When he envisioned a plan to solve the Jamie problem, he knew he’d be able to count on Frank and that he’d want to be involved. Patrick had talked Frank out of driving to DC with his own gun at least twice a week for the last month.

Patrick nodded. “Frank.”

“Patrick, how was the flight?”

“I slept, so not too bad.” Patrick slipped on his sunglasses and watched Atlanta fly by through his window.

“So, do we have a timeframe for when all of this is going down?”

“It’s close, but not yet. Why is it so hot here?”

“Warm snap. It’s supposed to be in the 30s tomorrow. Gotta love Atlanta weather.”

“Yep.”

They were quiet, both contemplating why Patrick was there. The ride to Jesse’s house was long and uneasy.

They took a left on Old Alabama and Patrick let out a whistle. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at where an NFL star lives.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait until we get into his neighborhood.”

Patrick was used to DC, where houses were shotgun style because the land was oversaturated. He didn’t venture outside the perimeter of the Beltway, which was where the houses were bigger, and he hadn’t been in Georgia in long enough that he’d kind of forgotten that residential mansions like this really existed.

They took a left into a gated golf community and stopped at the gate. A security guard came out of the house.

“Yes, sir?” the officer asked Frank.

“We’re here to see Jesse McIntyre. It’s Frank Murphy and Patrick Greer.”

The office looked down at his clipboard. “Yes, sir.” He walked back into the house and opened the gate, waving them in.

“Well…that was something I’ve never experienced,” Patrick commented, taking in the enormous mansions and rolling greens of the golf course. “Does Jesse even play golf?”

Frank laughed, his green eyes clear and full of humor. “As a matter of fact, he does.”

Patrick shrugged. He didn’t really know Jesse, but he was very grateful that he’d agreed to meet with him and Frank to help with Patrick’s plan.

Frank followed his navigation system’s instructions, meandering their way through the neighborhood, and pulled into the driveway of a house he would never envision for an NFL bachelor. It was all brick with four columns framing the red front door. It was huge, but somehow understated in the company of the houses around it. There was a silver Range Rover parked in the circular drive. Frank came to a stop behind it.

“He lives
here
?” Patrick asked.

“Yep.” Frank got out of the car and started walking up the steps to the house.

The door swung open before Patrick even got out of the car and Jesse stood in the doorway, dressed in workout attire, but no shoes, his smile evident from Patrick’s vantage point. Jesse’s tattoos and monstrous physique were on display in his tight tank and athletic shorts. Patrick vaguely heard Frank and Jesse talking and saw them shake hands heartily. Patrick walked up the steps quickly and caught up to Frank.

“Hey, Patrick,” Jesse said, still smiling, but more guarded.

Patrick nodded at him and shook his hand.

A woman with dark hair, about half Jesse’s size, walked up behind him. “Mr. Mac, the table is ready for you.”

“All right, thanks, Sandra.” Jesse moved back from the doorway and led them through a three-story foyer into a kitchen that looked like it should be in a magazine, which housed a small table that overlooked the golf course and was already set with plates and food. “Oh, Sandra, this looks great, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be in the laundry room.” She nodded and left the three men at the table.

“Thanks for hosting this,” Frank said, sitting down.

“Sure.” Jesse smiled. He had the whitest teeth Patrick had ever seen.

Jesse sat next to Frank and Patrick moved to the last spot with a plate. His mind was reeling between the purpose of this dinner and this lifestyle that was so outside the realm of anything Patrick had ever witnessed.

“So,” Frank began, taking control of the meeting, “I know this is about us figuring out how to get rid of Jamie, and I think…I’ve decided I want to do it.”

“But—”

Frank held his hand up and interrupted Patrick’s protest. “Hear me out, Patrick.” He cleared his throat and put his hand on the table. “She’s my daughter. Neither of you have a dog in the fight, if you know what I mean. I want to kill that bastard for everything he put her through. It’s mine to do. And I’m old, so if I get caught and sent to jail, I’d be fine with it.”

“Would your wife and Stella be okay?” Jesse asked, putting chicken salad on his plate.

“Well…” Frank contemplated, “my wife would understand, she would. Miranda’d probably do it herself if she could. Stella would be fine with it too.”

“Now, you know that isn’t true,” Patrick countered. “You want her to lose you too in all this? She couldn’t handle that.”

Jesse put a forkful of roasted broccoli in his mouth. “You guys should eat up.”

Frank and Patrick both looked at him in confusion. Patrick couldn’t believe he was even able to eat while they were planning to murder someone.

“Here’s what I’m thinking.” Jesse casually took a bite of his chicken salad and chewed it. “I have the plane and if we can get you,” he nodded at Patrick, “a solid alibi down here, you could use the plane to get to DC and back and do what you need to do.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“Greg, my attorney, told me and Stella to use social media to our advantage. I think if Patrick were to come stay with me on a bye weekend, we could party it up, take tons of pictures, then I can post them in intervals throughout the night like he’s still partying with me. He can get to DC—it’s an hour and twenty minutes for the flight—kill Jamie, and fly back.”

“You make it sound easy,” Patrick muttered.

Jesse shook his head. “Patrick, this needs to be done, right?” he asked, pointing at Patrick with his fork.

Patrick nodded.

“This is just the plan…the planning part is easier than actually doing it. If you can’t do it, tell us and we’ll get another plan.”

“Okay, so what would I do?” Frank asked.

“You’ll have to drive him to and from the DeKalb airport, Frank. It’s the airport I use for my private plane. It’s right off Clairemont.”

“I know it.” Frank nodded in agreement.

“So we’d be at a party,” Patrick thought out loud. “I can act drunk and party it up. Frank will come get me. I’ll fly to National, under a different name, of course, and then I’ll need to have a rental waiting with everything in it I need.”

Jesse pointed his fork at Patrick. “You’ll have to figure out where you can do it. That’s the hard part, Patrick. How can we lure him out in order to kill him? He’s in the safe house with the ATF, right?”

They sat at the table, looking at each other for a minute, before Patrick answered, “El.”

Frank started shaking his head. “No.”

Patrick didn’t say anything, and Jesse put another forkful of chicken salad in his mouth.

“No, Patrick. I don’t like it.”

“But, Frank, think about it. One, it’s the only way we’ll get him out of the house, and two, then she won’t be looked at as a suspect.”

Frank sat back in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. “I want to do it.”

Jesse put his fork down on the plate, which made a loud noise in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

“No,” Jesse and Patrick said at the same time.

“Frank, I’m trained for this. I’ve seen firsthand what he’s done to her,” Patrick urged.
I love her
. “I’ll do it.”

Frank pushed his chair out and paced the spacious kitchen.

Jesse followed his movements with his eyes. Patrick’s phone beeped and he looked down. It was Millie. He’d told her he was going to Savannah.

You make it?

He texted back quickly.

Yes grabbing lunch with friends

He sighed.
Liar.
A quick text from her came back.

I love you

You too

He was a total dick, but he did love Millie. He did. Putting his phone away, he looked up to find Frank still pacing. “Frank, sit down, we need to hammer this out. I want something concrete in place when I leave so that we don’t have to talk about anything over the phone.”

“I want to do it,” Frank repeated. “She’s my fucking daughter and that motherfucker should die at my hands.”

“Frank,” Jesse soothed, “Patrick is the one in the best possible position to make this happen. He knows Jamie. They’ve known each other for years, they have the same training. Patrick’s more likely to anticipate how Jamie will react to things and get him in a situation where we can take him out. I just think allowing him to do it, with your help, is the best way to be successful.”