Lost in Her (22 page)

What the hell?

Even she would admit she was a bit obsessed about things belonging in their place, down to how she filed her bills and important papers. Because her one-room apartment was short of storage space and her desk was actually a small table, she’d learned to be neat and organized. The papers in the accordion folder were definitely not organized. Someone had gone through them!

Making a slow spin around the room, she looked for anything out of place. One of the throw pillows on her love seat was lying flat on the
cushion instead of tucked up in the corner the way it should have been.
Had someone sat there and gone through her papers? Why? She had
nothing valuable, nothing that could possibly be of interest to anyone.

First things first. She went to her door and slid closed the dead bolt; then going back to her dresser, she opened each drawer, viewing the contents with new eyes. Someone had searched through them, too, and although they had tried to keep everything in its place, her clothes weren’t aligned as precisely as they should be.

At least her only computer was a laptop and it was at Ryan’s apartment. Except for the papers at her desk, the only other personal items she had were in a metal case on her closet shelf. To get to it, she had to drag a kitchen chair over. Taking the case with her to the love seat, she flipped up the hinges. It had a combination lock, but she’d never bothered to use it. That would change, even if there weren’t anything valuable inside.

Before she took out the contents, she tried to remember what had been on top, but it had been some time since she had opened it and couldn’t remember. A photo of her mother and father with her between them, holding their hands, stared up at her.

Tears burned her eyes, and she angrily swiped at them. She had been too young to remember that day or who took the picture, but her mom looked so happy. Not like the bitter, hateful-word-slinging mother of Charlie’s recent memories. The massive stroke that had taken her mother’s life a year after Roger had gone to prison had stolen any chance of reconciliation.

She trailed a finger over her daddy’s face. As an only child, she’d had all her parents’ attention and had never doubted she had been
loved. She still remembered how her father would pull her and her mom into a hug, saying, “My two precious girls.”

Sometimes life just sucked. If he hadn’t been on that highway at that one second in time, he would have made it home safely, and her mother would have never married Roger. Best of all, Charlie never would have had Ashley as a stepsister. And she wouldn’t have ended up wondering if she was still loved by her mother.

One second had been all it took to change her life forever, and the ripples of that event would have made her daddy sad. Charlie swiped the sleeve of her shirt across her face, wiping away the tears. She set the photo aside to take with her, and continued on with her inspection.

It took three passes through the items in the case before she realized the one thing missing. A picture of her mom and her stepfather on their wedding day, her and Ashley sitting in front of the just-married couple, all of them with happy smiles on their faces. It had been the first and the last time Ashley had smiled whenever Charlie was anywhere near. She had never understood Ashley’s instant hate toward her—because as ugly as the word was, that’s what it had been.

Aaron had picked up the photo one night. “Who’s that?” he’d asked.

“My stepsister, Ashley Whitmore.”

“She’s pretty. She live around here?”

“Yeah, we grew up in Pensacola. Last I heard, she’s living in her father’s house on Scenic Drive.” His interest in the picture had disturbed her enough that she’d put it away, and now it was missing.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she set the case aside and went for her purse where she’d dropped it on the desk, her heart pounding out a name.
Ryan
, it beat out in excitement. Seeing Maria’s name on the screen, she tried not to let her disappointment show when she answered.

“What’s wrong?” Maria said to Charlie’s lackluster greeting.

“Someone’s been in my apartment,” she answered. That was better than telling her friend there was someone else she wished had called.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, whoever was here is long gone, and I’ve dead-bolted myself in.”

“I need to make a call, then I’ll come over. What’s your address?”

After giving it to Maria, Charlie grabbed the afghan folded over the arm of the love seat and wrapped it around her. It wasn’t cold, yet she was freezing. Who had been in her apartment and why take that particular picture?

Aaron once had a key, but she had taken it back when he broke up with her. Had he made a copy? As for the photo, she had kept it on an end table for a while, but had put it away after he had asked who the pretty girl next to her was. She had already noticed whenever they were out together that he never missed checking out a pretty woman. For him to be looking at a picture of Ashley with interest in his eyes had raised red flags that Charlie had chosen to ignore. With her new knowledge of the kind of man he was, that was regrettable. She should have trusted her instincts. It made her sick to think that she had been
the other woman.

Charlie wrapped her arms around her stomach and rocked forward. Oh God, she needed Ryan. Someone pounded on her door, the sound penetrating the fog that clouded her mind. Keeping the afghan wrapped around her shoulders, she went and stuck her eye to the peephole. Even though she had only seen the man once before when she had been at Dani’s house, her body slumped with relief. She fumbled with the lock, finally getting the door open.

“I’m Logan Kincaid, Maria’s brother. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped back, and as he entered, Maria came running up the sidewalk. When her friend reached her, she wrapped her arms around Charlie. “Oh, thank God. You’re safe now. I was so freaked out.” She pulled Charlie inside, closing the door behind them. “I called Logan. He’ll know what to do.”

The next fifteen minutes seemed like some kind of bizarre movie reel as the most intimidating man she had ever met questioned her. Yet, having him in her little apartment calmed her. Who would be stupid enough to mess with guys like him and Ryan? The other one she had met, the one they called Saint, walked in.

“Hey, Maria,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Sugar’s in the car. Why don’t you take her and Charlie to your house while we see what we can find here? I’ll pick her up later.” He set a small case on her desk. “It’s a fingerprint kit,” he said to Charlie’s unasked question. “I’ll clean up after myself, okay?” He gave her an angelic grin, and she could only nod in response to the beautiful, blue-eyed man.

Maria grabbed Charlie’s hand and pulled her toward the door. “You’re spending the night at my house again. We’ll pick up Mr. Bunny on the way. Between him and Mouse, they’re going to make Sugar laugh so hard, she’s gonna pee all night.”

Charlie glanced over her shoulder at the two men, one dark and intimidating, one fair and no doubt scarier than he appeared. They were there for her, but only because of Ryan. Without him, she would be facing all the crap going on in her life alone. She had forgotten what it was like to have anyone on her side, and when Logan Kincaid met her gaze, she mouthed, “Thank you.” As she followed Maria out, she tried swallowing, but the lump in her throat refused to go away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

R
yan crawled up next to Jake. “Why the hell didn’t you run for
the boat?” He peeled off his gloves and stuffed them in a pocket.

“Oh, I thought I’d just stick around and have a little fun,” Jake said,
then winced. He pointed to his thigh. “Fuckers shot me. I fell down. Tried to get up. Fell down again. Beginning, middle, end of story.”

“You missed your calling, man. That was bestseller shit there.” Ryan took aim and shot the gun out of one of the uniformed cops’ hands when the man left the cover of his open door. “Let’s see. We have orders not to leave any dead bodies behind, which definitely cramps our style. Got any ideas?”

“Happens I do.” Jake dug into one of his several pockets and brought out a grenade and two smoke bombs. “You throw the grenade just close enough to scare the shit out of ’em at the same time I toss these. Then you help me into the water.”

So they would do what they did best. Swim. “First, we gotta wrap your leg,” Ryan said. He pulled a roll of gauze from a pocket.

“That hurts,” Jake grunted as Ryan worked on his leg. “Next time somebody shoots me they better find a different place or I’m gonna be real pissed.”

“You’ve been shot in the leg before?”

“Last year. Ready to swim?” he said when Ryan tied off the knot.

“One thing to do first.” Ryan leaned over the hood of the Volga and shot the rest of his rounds into the ground in front of the first car to keep the Russians from moving forward. “On the count of three,” he said, taking the grenade.

Jake used the grill of the car to push himself up. “One. Two. Three.”

The grenade hit the ground halfway between them and the Russians at the same second the two smoke bombs exploded. Hoisting the rifle strap over one shoulder, Ryan slipped his arm under Jake’s and they melted away, into the Gulf of Finland. They were in the water, yards from shore when the smoke cleared. By the time the Russians would have been able to see them, he and Jake had slipped under and disappeared.

“It’s like finding sexy mermaids, but not,” Dog said as he leaned over the side of the
Sealion
, peering down at them.

“Take him,” Ryan answered, pushing Jake up. “He was shot.” As both he and Jake wore tracking devices, they had been easy to find.

“Yeah, take me,” Jake gasped, reaching for Cody’s hand. “Doc tried to drown me.”

Ryan laughed. “A bullet in his leg apparently doesn’t shut him up.”

After they both were pulled on board, Ryan, dripping water, went straight to the woman curled into a fetal position on the bench. “How far apart is she?”

“Three minutes,” Cody said, as he pushed the throttle of the stealth boat forward and turned for the coast of Finland.

“You’re doing good, Mrs. Akulov,” Ryan said, and waited for her husband to translate. They had about sixty-five miles before they reached the boathouse, and it was going to be close as to whether the baby would be born on land or in a speeding stealth boat. If nothing else, the kid would have a good story to tell someday.

“Just keep holding her hand and talking to her, Mr. Akulov.” Next on his patient list was the girl, and he grabbed his medic’s bag. “Hey, Sasha, darlin’. Can I listen to your heart?”

She glanced at her father, who translated for her. With a shy smile, she nodded. Ryan lifted the poodle from her lap, putting him on the bench beside her. The dog twitched and his eyes fluttered. Just great, the little yapper was waking up. While Sasha stroked the animal’s fur, whispering soft words to him, Ryan listened to her heartbeat, then took her pulse. It was abnormal, but that wasn’t surprising considering her condition, and with all the excitement and worry for her mother. She was also too pale, and that concerned him, but other than observe her, there wasn’t much else he could do.

Next, he moved to Jake. “How ya doing, partner?”

“Hurts like a son of a bitch, but I’ll live.”

“Your pretty wife’s gonna be happy about that.”

“My pretty wife’s going to be pissed I got shot again.”

Ryan removed the gauze he’d wrapped around Jake’s leg. “There’s no exit wound, so it’s going to be straight to the hospital for you. Can you move your toes?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t feel like it hit any nerves.”

His greatest worry was infection from being in the water. Since they all stayed current on their tetanus shots, that would help. The wound began to bleed when it was uncovered. Ryan took a pair of scissors from his bag and cut open Jake’s pants. After cleaning the wound as best he could with saline, he bandaged the leg with a sterilized wrap. He held up a bottle of pills and raised a brow.

“No. Give me the satellite phone so I can call Kincaid, then go take care of your real patients.”

Not surprised at the refusal of the painkillers, he got the phone and gave it to Jake. “Holler at me if you start bleeding.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Leaving Jake to take care of business, Ryan returned to Mrs. Akulov. “How far apart now?” he asked her husband.

“Close. They come close.”

A whimper had him glancing at Sasha. Her chest heaved in and out as she stared with wide eyes at her mother. “Sweetheart,” he said, “the man driving our boat loves dogs so much we call him Dog. Why don’t you take . . .” he glanced at Akulov.

“Valentin. Her dog is Valentin.” Then he translated Ryan’s words for Sasha.

“Why don’t you take Valentin to him. He would love to pet him.”

Cody glanced over his shoulder and met Ryan’s eyes, then shifted his attention to Sasha. “Hey, sweetheart. You bring that dog to me so I can admire him, okay?”

After her father translated, she looked at Ryan as if asking permission. He nodded, picked up the woozy animal, and placed him in her outstretched arms. “Go on now,” he said as he gave her a gentle nudge.

“She have baby here?” Akulov asked, his gaze shifting to Jake.

It was beginning to look that way. The man wasn’t happy about having an audience for the delivery. Ryan lifted his chin toward his teammate.

“Kincaid will have an ambulance waiting for us,” Jake said, then stretched out on the bench seat and put an arm over his eyes.

“You tell him you need one, too?”

No answer, which meant no. At hearing a little girl laugh, he glanced forward to see Sasha sitting on the floor, her pet on her lap, as both of them stared up at Cody in fascination as he made funny noises. The man barely tolerated adults outside of their team, but had always been able to win the affection of any dog he came across. Apparently, that now extended to children.

Turning his attention to Mrs. Akulov, Ryan timed her contractions. Her head was in her husband’s lap, and tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her moans were quiet. Ryan assumed she was doing her best not to upset her daughter. Less than a minute on the last contraction. He took the container of sterile wipes from his bag and cleaned his hands and forearms.

All of a sudden, she pushed up. “
Te
П
ep
Ь
!”

“She said
now
,” Akulov said, his voice strained.

For the next few minutes, Ryan shut out everything around him and concentrated on his patient. “I see the head. Tell her to push.” Tears streamed down her face as she grunted and pushed. One more hard push from her, and he was holding a baby.

“You have a boy,” he said, getting a smile from the mother and a laugh from the father. He grabbed the towel he’d put next to him, wrapped it around the baby, and tilted him at an angle, gently rubbing his tiny back. At a cry, Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. Using the Apgar score—activity, pulse, grimace, appearance, and respiration—he evaluated the baby.

“A healthy boy,” he said, and laid the baby on his mother’s chest, then sat back, feeling a mix of emotions.

It was his first delivery and it really was a miracle like people said, but there was an ache in his heart. He swallowed hard, remembering his rage the day he read Kathleen’s autopsy report and learned she’d been two months pregnant. Yet, even though the baby wasn’t his, he felt a sadness that she had never had a chance to hold her child in her arms.

It also occurred to him that if she hadn’t been murdered, they would almost certainly be divorced. He’d never considered that, hadn’t been able to think past her betrayal. Even so, at least he might know what happened to them if she had lived, understood where they had gone wrong. The sadness that hit him as he watched the Akulovs coo over their baby, he didn’t want. He felt like his heart was torn in two, one half belonging to his past and Kathleen, the other half claimed by a blue-gray-eyed cherub. If he was to move forward—and he wanted to—he had to find the answers that would let him put his wife to rest.

The baby let out a loud cry, and Sasha jumped up and ran to them, the poodle wobbling along behind her. As the family exclaimed over their new addition, Ryan moved to the front.

“How long before we get to the boathouse?” he asked Cody.

“Five minutes.”

“Good.” He decided to let the paramedics cut the umbilical cord. Going to where Jake was pushing himself up, he sat next to his teammate.

“Next time there’s a damn poodle and a pregnant woman on any mission, I’m calling in sick,” Jake said.

Ryan laughed. “Nothing to it. Just another day at the office.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a bullet in your leg.”

“Why didn’t you tell Kincaid you’d been shot?” Ryan eyed the bandage but didn’t see any new blood.

“So he could tell Maria, and then she’d worry?”

Ryan didn’t say, “At least you have someone to worry about you.” Then he thought of Charlie and wondered if she was worried about him.