Shatter (31 page)

 

Gil tossed the card aside and swiped his phone from the side table. He speed-dialed Young and listened to it ring, his gaze still on the television. The call rolled into voice mail.

Gil barked, “Call me.” He disconnected and stared out the window for a long moment. He thought of Abernathy, of what would happen to the program if Abernathy got Beloi’s research. Of what would happen if he got Beloi’s other files. Of what would happen if Abernathy were caught and talked.

Sweat trickled down his temple.

He made another call.

“Yes, sir?” the man answered in a low, cool voice.

“Your new target is Bruce Abernathy,” Gil said. “Major Bruce Abernathy.”

“I’m still working on—”

“Change of plans,” Gil said. “This is more important.”

“I’m close to Torrent,” the man said, his voice deep and slow. “If I find Torrent, I’ll find Abrute.”

“I understand,” Gil said. “And, as I said, this is more important.”

“You’re the boss.” He disconnected.

A weight fell instantly from Gil’s shoulders. A smile turned his mouth. He was powerful enough to order a kill even from a hospital bed.

He pushed the nurse’s call button and after a moment a harried, “Yes, Senator, this is Carla. Peggy’s still on her dinner break. What can I help you with?”

“Cake, Carla. I want chocolate cake.”

 

T
he mood on the plane was light—at least with everyone other than Mitch. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she would have fallen for the cool veneer he’d been using to cover complex emotions he wasn’t sure what to do with.

He wanted to talk, she could tell by the occasional thoughtful looks her way, by his restless fidgeting. But he obviously wasn’t ready, because he hadn’t spoken a word to her in the hour since he’d herded her into the private space in the front of the plane, gestured for her to sit beside the window, then trapped her there by sitting in the aisle seat next to her.

He’d played with Kat, read to Mateo, talked strategy with the team, and was now talking on the phone to Owen Young, whom Halina had known in passing when she’d worked at DARPA all those years ago. But Mitch hadn’t said a word to her. Nor had he looked her in the eye. And though they used to be able to sit in comfortable silence forever, this wasn’t comfortable. She loved the feel of him close. Hated the turmoil bubbling just beneath the surface. Loathed the millions of miles of distance between them.

But Halina stared out at the clouds and reminded herself it was better to have the distance, because unless something drastically changed soon, she’d have to leave.

Mitch disconnected and put his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “Owen and Quaid are going to pick us up at the airport.”

Halina recognized the opening to a conversation for what it was. But she wasn’t anxious to take it and remained silent.

“Are you going to tell me when you’re leaving me,” he asked, staring blankly across the seating section at the faux-wood wall. “Or are you just going to leave?”

Alarm burned in her belly. “What are you talking about?”

He finally looked at her. His eyes held so much pain and disappointment, she felt it in the pit of her stomach. “You’re leaving me again, right? Are you going to warn me, like you did last time, or am I just going to wake up one day and find you gone? Will I ever know if I have a child? If
we
have a child?”

Her throat closed with all the pain of her past, joined with the very real possibility of the horribly unfair scenario he presented.

She shook her head, at a loss for any better alternative. “Would you rather I stay just long enough to cause your death? Just long enough to watch you die?”

The hurt in his gaze flared into anger with the speed of a match strike. “Is there more? Am I going to keep turning around to find a new lie as long as you’re here?”

“No.” When her voice shook, she swallowed. “I told you, I’ve given you everything. There are no more lies.”

His gaze radiated pain as it drifted away. After several moments of silence, he gave a small shake of his head. “Halina . . . I just don’t
understand
.”

Here it comes.
She tightened her threaded fingers to ease the ache created by building stress.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, his brow pulled into a deep frown. “I don’t get why you couldn’t confide in me. You went on and on and on for weeks, months, enduring that stress, that treatment. Never once did you talk to me about it. Like you never needed me. Like you didn’t trust me. Like you didn’t believe in me. What the hell was our relationship about, Hali?”

“Mitch, no . . . I . . .” She shook her head, her answer evaporating into a mist.

The visible torment tightening his face and shining in his eyes made her wish she’d never met him. Made her wish she’d never been born. Made her wish—for the first time ever—she could erase those ten months of bliss they’d spent together, the only truly bright spot in all her life, and wipe that pain from his soul.

She scraped in air and forced words out. “I’d . . . seen your future. So many times. And I realized that I could try to hold on to you and watch you die . . . or I could let you go and live happily without me.” Her voice caught. She paused. Looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eyes for fear of breaking down. “Deep down, Mitch, I’ve always just wanted you to be happy and safe.”

It felt like forever before he asked, “Is that why you read the papers?” His voice was low and rough, filled with emotion. “To make sure I was safe?”

She nodded, squeezing and releasing her fingers. “If I didn’t see you in the papers for a week or two, I’d Google you. If that didn’t turn up a court case or a magazine article, I’d call your office. If I went to San Francisco to speak or meet with colleagues, I’d watch for you outside your—”

He pushed to his feet and she startled. She leaned back and glanced up, but wasn’t prepared for the amount of hurt and anger in his eyes. “You were
in
San Francisco? You saw me.
Physically saw me,
and you didn’t say a word?”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she gripped the arms of the chair. She was really screwing this up. And just when she didn’t think she could make it any worse.

“I . . . just needed to know you were okay. That Schaeffer hadn’t questioned my commitment to your safety, that my threat wasn’t valid. I didn’t want to hurt you by contacting you—”

“Hurt me?”
he almost yelled, growing furious. “For Christ’s sake.”

Mitch gripped the back of the chair. She glanced toward another section of seating where Kai and Cash sat side by side, their expressions serious, their watchful gazes on Mitch. Quaid appeared in the aisle, standing tall, arms at his sides, supremely quiet, but just as intense.

Mitch didn’t notice anyone. All his fury remained focused on Halina, his fingers deeply indenting the leather, his nail beds white. His eyes sparkled with raw emotion, deep green and glittering gold.

“It took me years to . . .” He stopped. “You have no idea how many nights I . . .” He stopped again. To watch such an accomplished speaker struggle so hard for words ripped at Halina. “You were
everything
.”

“As were you.” She raised her own voice now. “And I didn’t want to find you hanging from your apartment ceiling by a rope, or on the sofa with a bullet in your head. I didn’t want to get a call telling me you’d been in a fatal car accident. Shit—” she threw her hands out in frustration. “Call me selfish.”

“You . . .” His expression compressed in horror. “You
saw
all that happen to me?”

“Worse. I saw them
do
all that to you. And more. And yes, I could have gone to you and told you, but we’ve already been over how well that would have gone. And to repeat your own words, when these guys want you, they get you. It doesn’t matter what kind of face you put on, what kind of wall you build. I knew that all too well. And I was powerless to help you—with one exception.

“I had something Schaeffer wanted. And I had something that could expose and shut down his entire project if not send him to prison. I didn’t lie to you about the research. I only mixed up the order it happened. He came to me for the cloning after I’d broken off our relationship and—”

“After?” Near rage filled his expression. “You mean you didn’t leave Washington after you left me? You were still
there
?”

“I stayed until I was sure you’d gotten out of DC and back to California safely.”

Cash pushed from his seat, stepped in front of Quaid and up beside Mitch. The gaze he turned on Mitch was one of the most fierce looks Halina had ever seen. “I thought you might need to see my face. I’m hoping it will remind you that you’re missing . . . The. Big.
Fucking
. Picture.”

Mitch’s eyes slid closed. He dropped his head and rubbed his eyes. Scraped his hand through his hair. With his fingers deep in the black strands, he said, “I need a drink.” He turned toward the back of the plane and disappeared.

 

Halina stroked Dex’s thick fur as she stared at the house through the back window of one of the SUVs Owen had dropped off for them at the airport. It looked like a freaking castle, with turrets and six different types of gray stone. Huge paned and arched windows broke up the stone façades on at least two levels.

“When he does it,” Alyssa said from the seat beside Halina, “he does it right.”

In the front seat, Mitch and Nelson had been talking logistics and security since they’d landed. Square footage of river frontage, exit routes, basement details. Nelson pulled up to the entrance in the circular drive and the heavy, hand-carved wooden door with matching sidelights. The warm blond color of the wood and mottled bronze oxidized metal fixtures softened the harshness of the cold gray stone.

“Where’d you dig this up?” Alyssa asked during a lull in the men’s conversation.

“I can’t take credit for this one.” Mitch didn’t look back when he spoke. Probably because he knew he’d have to look at Halina if he looked at his sister—she was sitting in his line of sight—and he hadn’t looked at her or spoken to her since he’d walked away from her on the plane after Cash’s scolding.

She’d hoped he’d be able to forgive her, but that had just been a fantasy. She’d crushed his most basic trust. That was something no one forgot. Something Halina didn’t believe could be forgiven. At least not forgiven in a way that could mend the tear she’d created between them. Trust, she knew from experience, was fragile. Easily broken and poorly healed.

“Owen found it,” Mitch said. “It’s secure and off the map, not connected in any way to anyone in this mess. It’s going on the market in two weeks and the Realtor is a friend of a friend of a friend. The owners moved to Europe, so they won’t be an issue, and the place has a state-of-the-art security system, which gives us a head start on locking it down.”

He climbed from the car and shut the door. Hurt throbbed beneath Halina’s ribs as she helped Alyssa unbuckle Brady’s car seat and lift it out of the car, then helped Kat down to the ground. Mitch met Nelson and the three other guards from the other SUV at the driver’s door and they pointed around the property, thickly covered in deciduous trees bare after dropping their leaves over the fall months.

Dex jumped to the ground beside Halina. She looked at Teague and asked, “How is Owen Young involved in this?”

“Young was working under Jocelyn Dargan at DARPA before she was killed,” Teague said. “Jocelyn was Schaeffer’s right hand and tagged Young to do some of her dirty work. When Jocelyn died, Schaeffer blackmailed Young into her position. He’s not happy about it. Knows we’re out to shut Schaeffer down, so he helps where he can.”

Halina grabbed three duffel bags as they were unloaded from the vehicles and carried them toward the front door.

It opened before she reached it and Quaid stepped out. He’d driven the other SUV back from the airport. When they’d met them at the plane, he’d mentioned they’d found and taken the box without any problem, but nothing more.

“Hey,” she greeted him. “Have you looked in the box?”

“Just glanced in to make sure there were files. I’ve been doing other important stuff, like grocery shopping. It’s in the family room at the back of the house.”

She nodded and started past him.

“Hey,” he said, “where did you live in Russia when you were a kid?”

Discomfort niggled along the back of her neck. “I . . . was born in St. Petersburg, but moved to Chechnya to live with my uncle when I was nine. Why?”

“Just curious. I’ve spent some time in different parts of Russia. I thought it might help my memory if we talked about different locations.”

Not on her preferred list of things to do, but . . . “Sure.”

The house was so massive it was overwhelming. Like a monster waiting to swallow her. She’d never been in a house this big. This grand. And it didn’t appeal to her. The ceilings went on forever. Dark marble floors gleamed in the light streaming through the windows.

Halina continued slowly down the hall, Dex’s nails clicking on the marble beside her and echoing off the hard surfaces. A formal dining room sat to the right, complete with chandelier that probably cost five, maybe six figures. A formal living room followed, with fireplace and furniture that looked far too uncomfortable to sit in. Large, historical paintings covered walls painted in rich, dark colors. She passed an office, a lounge, a library.

Her shoulders were nearly up around her ears by the time she reached the kitchen. There she relaxed. Even took a breath of amazement. The space was huge and open. Wood cabinets stained with a light country wash. Polished granite counters in a contrasting dark caramel and black, covered in the groceries Quaid had bought. A wall of windows that looked out on a sculpted yard and the Potomac beyond.

In an area across from the kitchen a large whitewashed country table filled a bay window with eight matching chairs. Halina recognized the setting immediately—the one she’d seen in her last vision. The good side in her last glimpse of Mitch’s future. A relieved smile turned her lips. She was still making the right decisions—even if they were killing her.

Halina turned away from the windows toward a huge family room that sat off the kitchen. The windows continued into this room, giving it a nice view. It held plush furnishings and another fireplace.

The box sat alongside the hearth, and the sight made a sharp pulsing pain beat beneath her ribs. She dropped the duffels in a corner and stared at the smashed top, bent sides, and dusty, aged cardboard. A cold wave of memories crashed over her. Vivid images filled her mind—down on her knees in the kitchen, the loose planks scattered around her as she forced the box into that space. Sweating, shaking, heart pounding.

Such a mistake.

Or had it been? If she could turn back time, pull the box out, meet Mitch at the door, shake him and insist he listen . . . would she?