Читать книгу To Honour And To Protect - Debra & Regan Webb & Black - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Washington, DC

Wednesday, July 2, 9:15 a.m.

Andrew “Drew” Bryant remained in his seat, his back straight, palms relaxed on his thighs, gaze straight ahead. Maintaining a calm facade in all circumstances had been emphasized during his time with the Special Forces, but he’d mastered the skill as a prisoner of war. He’d memorized and evaluated every detail of his surroundings. The sleek, understated decor of the lobby, the expensive black leather seating and the polished chrome and glass accents might be found in any number of office buildings around the world, but the distinct lack of nameplates and office logos on the doors told him more than anyone behind those doors wanted him to know. At one time in his life he might’ve paced the marble-floored lobby impatiently, but not anymore. These days, he let the world come to him.

He was more than a little relieved the men in dark suits who’d picked him up twelve hours ago hadn’t put a bag over his head. It could still happen, and if it did, it would test his fitful control. He took a deep breath. Calm was key. In every situation. No sense proving the army docs right about his uncertain mental state.

They’d left him alone and unrestrained, but he’d seen the escort lock the elevator. If they wanted him to sit here, here was where he’d sit. He was in a high-rent office building, but the view from the window wasn’t helpful, with no visible skyline beyond tall trees. The artwork on the walls and in the elevator was most likely original. In his assessment, that meant this place didn’t get a lot of foot traffic.

Drew felt his heart rate tick up as another minute passed. He couldn’t help recalling the last time he’d been snatched away from a normal day. Except that day hadn’t been normal at all. It had been his wedding day.

On that occasion he’d been ordered to duty in the middle of the night and it had required half a pot of coffee to burn away the fuzzy aftertaste of his bachelor party. He’d left a note—unauthorized but nonnegotiable—for his bride. The woman who’d eventually given up on him. Not that he blamed her.

He kept his eyes forward, even as the sound of feminine high heels clicked across the marble floor on the other side of the door. Closer, closer, then fading away.

Had his bride chosen heels or flats? He recalled overhearing the debate with her maid of honor, but he’d never known the final decision.

The last time he’d been uprooted on the precipice of a major life event his commanding officer had insisted there’d been no time for even a cursory marriage ceremony. This time, someone with serious money and authority had pulled him away from a major basketball game between the top two teams in the Detroit recreational league. The score tied, less than five minutes left, he’d been forced away. Unable to stem the curiosity, Drew gave in and glanced at his watch. The game had ended hours ago and without his phone, he still didn’t know who won.

It pissed him off. Bragging rights were riding on that game, and these days that was all the stress he wanted, but life rarely cooperated with his wants.

Drew snorted as another minute clicked by on the wall clock. The kids he worked with in Detroit kept him from wallowing in self-pity after the army had shown him the door with an early retirement for medical reasons. Retired at thirty-six years old. Unbelievable. That hadn’t been part of the plan. He rarely let it bother him, but today when something from his past was clearly interrupting his present, he couldn’t shake off the irritation.

He knew this drill, knew someone from the alphabet soup of government agencies had pulled strings to drag him out of Detroit last night. But if it was so important it couldn’t wait until the end of the game, why was he parked in limbo here?

The high heels approached once more and Drew shifted his face, his entire body into neutral. The heels stopped and the glass door opened with an understated whoosh.

“Mr. Bryant?”

“Yes.” He stood, facing the woman who remained in the doorway. She was slender, her sleek navy blue dress making a professional and feminine statement. Noting the long legs and high heels, he pegged her as a dancer by training. Watching her approach, he knew she was an expert in martial arts, as well. If a woman like this was merely a receptionist in this place, he might be in more trouble than he could handle.

“Our apologies for the delay,” she said with a polite smile. “I’ve been told you might appreciate this video while you wait. It shouldn’t be much longer.” She handed him a tablet and returned to her side of the glass doors.

He looked at the screen, baffled as he recognized the basketball court and uniforms of the players. It couldn’t be... He sank back into his chair and, touching the icon, put the video into motion. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered, watching the last minutes of the basketball game.

Immersed in the video action, he forgot where he was, forgot to wonder why, and just enjoyed watching his team take the win in a nail-biting last-second shot. “Yes!” He pumped his fist and watched as one of the more headstrong kids from the neighborhood enjoyed a hero’s celebration.

Drew took a deep breath, relieved and relaxed that his kids were making progress within the community. Something was finally going right. That neighborhood, those kids were coming together as a team and as a family of sorts. Knowing his small part in the overall puzzle made a difference was enough to keep him moving forward instead of stalling out.

A big accomplishment for a man who’d nearly lost his mind when the life he’d dreamed of slipped out of his grasp. Stolen was a more accurate term, but according to the army shrinks, that word held negative connotations. They wanted him to reframe, rephrase, re-everything when all he wanted was to rewind and make a different choice in the early hours of his wedding day.

“They’re ready for you now, Mr. Bryant.”

She was back and he hadn’t even heard her approach. He knew better, knew he had to keep his mind off the past or it would swallow him up. Drew stood and smiled. “Thanks for this.” He extended the tablet.

“You’re welcome.” She accepted the device with another courteous smile. “This way.”

He followed the slender woman, the only sound the click of her heels, but even that went quiet when she turned down a carpeted hallway. They passed a bank of blacked-out windows of what was probably a conference room. When they passed another small reception area and one nearly closed office door, Drew’s stomach dropped.

They were headed for the corner office, a destination that in his experience didn’t ever add up to anything good. The woman stopped at the open door, announced him, then stepped back. Going forward was the only option. She closed the door behind him as he entered.

He felt underdressed in his gym clothes compared to the man in the dark suit and expensive tie. The man rose from his elegant chair and came around the desk quickly, hand extended. “I’m Director Thomas Casey.” The grip was firm and brief as they shook hands. “Come have a seat, Mr. Bryant.”

Drew couldn’t hide his surprise. Thomas Casey was one of those names whispered in dark corners by people with the highest clearances. Among the microcommunity of black ops and special operations, the man who supposedly coordinated a crack team of “Specialists” was nearly urban legend. “I thought you were a myth,” Drew admitted as Thomas returned to his big chair behind the desk.

“That’s the way I like it.” The smile was as firm and as brief as the handshake. “I appreciate your cooperation on such short notice.”

“Didn’t feel like there was much choice, sir.”

“Call me Thomas.”

Another surprise. “Sure.”

“You saw the end of the game, I trust.”

“Yes, thank you.” He wondered if Thomas arranged for the game to be recorded, or if one of his Specialists had pulled it off YouTube.

“It came down to the wire.”

Drew nodded. “Always better for both teams that way.”

“Probably so.” Thomas studied Drew another moment. “Solid effort and a close call incite more determination to win the next game. We understand that here,” he said. “I’ve looked into your background as well as your present situation. What you’re doing in Detroit is good work.”

“I like it,” Drew said, hiding his surprise at the compliment. “And I’d like to get back to it.”

“I’m sure. Let’s talk about that. It’s not my practice to pull people away from good work, but I find myself in a tight spot. I believe your skills and knowledge would be helpful.”

Drew waited in silence, curious. He no longer had the security clearance to even sit in this room. Thomas, having poked through his background, knew that. None of Drew’s kids were into anything that would be of interest to the director. He couldn’t think of a single way he could be helpful, but he’d listen. It would be rude not to after he’d been hauled out here.

“You aren’t curious?” Thomas asked.

“I am.” But he wasn’t going to reveal anything to this master spook by asking questions.

“All right.” Thomas gave a wry chuckle when Drew didn’t elaborate. “Federal authorities made an arrest based on an almost anonymous tip.”

Almost anonymous? Drew hadn’t heard that phrase before.

“The person who shared the information requested that she be left out of it and we’re doing our best to honor that from an investigative standpoint.”

Drew wanted to stop Thomas right there, to point out that he wasn’t in the market for a bodyguard gig, didn’t have the head for it anymore, but he kept his mouth shut and his ears open.

“You’ve been through some hard times, Mr. Bryant.”

“Drew is fine,” he replied, wondering why the subject had changed. If this had something to do with the bastards who’d held him as a POW for six years in a cave in Afghanistan, he might opt in to whatever the director had in mind. A little revenge could go a long way toward healing. It was a dangerous line of thought, but Drew let it play out. Thinking about something and acting on it were two different animals. He’d learned that quickly as a prisoner and in the agonizing months of recovery that followed his escape and rescue.

“Do you feel you’re fit for service?”

Drew met Thomas’s assessing gaze. “Depends on the type of service, I suppose. The army found me to be more hindrance than help.”

“Are you?”

“Didn’t have the chance to find out,” Drew blurted before thinking through a better reply.

“Tell me about your recovery.”

Drew could see no way of avoiding the topic. Not in this room. Better to lay it out there than allow Thomas to continue to entertain his delusions. If the man managed to maintain myth status in a place like Washington, Drew could safely assume his personal secrets wouldn’t leave the room.

Still, he played it close. “Long. Physically, I’d lost muscle mass to the malnutrition and poor conditions. That came back quick enough after a few weeks in the hospital with proper nutrition and a few months of physical therapy. They had to reset an arm and do a little work on my back.”

He still felt guilty and selfish when he thought of those endless days with no contact beyond hospital staff and the occasional visit from a chaplain or army officials. He should have been full of gratitude, but instead he’d battled a terrible sense of loss and isolation no matter how they praised him for surviving.

“I heard your father died while you were a prisoner.”

“Yes.” His superiors had explained valid reasons for not publicizing his return to anyone, not even family. “They showed me the obituary, told me he was buried next to my mom.”

“No one from your past knows you’re alive. There’s no reason to keep your survival a secret now.”

“There’s no reason to throw a parade, either,” Drew countered. “A few people from my old neighborhood recognized me when I came back.”

“I’m sure they were happy to see you.”

“Pretty much.” Almost a year later, he was okay with his neighbors, too. With his father dead, the only other person Drew had wanted to see was the bride he’d left waiting at the altar. She was the final piece of his recovery, and everyone who’d had a hand in it knew he needed to reach out to her. Too bad no one had warned him what he’d find.

Despite the years, having heard about his wedding plans from his father, the neighbors were eager to meet the woman they’d only seen in wedding announcement photos. When he’d felt strong enough, he’d gone looking for her and returned alone. After about six months his neighbors stopped asking about her.

“Took a while to get past all the sympathy,” Drew said. It was all the explanation he felt Thomas needed on his personal life.

“That’s reasonable.”

It sure hadn’t felt that way at the time, but it was done now and he had carved out a new place for himself. He might spend his nights alone, but based on the persistent nightmares, that was for the best.

The back of his neck prickling, Drew wanted to shift the topic back to Thomas’s invasion of his new life, but again he waited quietly for the director to make the move.

“Addison Collins.” Thomas tossed out the name, like a bomb in the middle of his desk, and leaned back to watch Drew’s reaction.

His body went cold at the sound of her name. Suddenly he wanted to talk about the POW camp. The injuries. The nightmares. The dirt cell and lousy food. Anything but her.

“Have you had any contact with your fiancée lately?”

“Former fiancée,” Drew corrected. “And no.” He didn’t even let himself think of her. Not after he’d seen her playing freeze tag with another man and a little boy in San Francisco last fall. He’d been close enough to see the smile on her face, to hear her carefree, happy laughter. Close enough to see the ring on her finger sporting a diamond easily twice the size of the one he’d given her years ago. She’d been so obviously settled and content with her family that he’d walked away rather than ruin her day and twist up her life.

“Why do you ask?” He ignored the calculating gleam in Thomas’s quick smile. Drew could no more hold back that question than stop the next sunrise. With a nearly audible snap, a piece clicked into place. “She’s the tipster.”

“Yes. And she’s gone missing.”

“So ask her husband.” Drew’s throat went dry and his palms went damp. Addi was fine. Had to be fine. He couldn’t accept anything else where she was concerned.

“Well...” Thomas hesitated. “You haven’t seen any of the news coverage on this?”

Drew shook his head. Knowing his emotional limits, he didn’t do any more than scan the local headlines, and sometimes that was more bad news than he could handle.

“Craig Everett.” Thomas opened a file and showed him a picture of the man who’d been with Addi in the park. “He and Ms. Collins planned to marry at the end of the summer, but he’s also gone missing.”

Planned? “She’s not married?” Had he missed an important chance to be with her? It was hard to think about that. He’d been so sure about what he’d seen. Maybe she’d been married and divorced before Everett came along.

“No marriage on record,” Thomas confirmed. “What we do know is that she turned over damning evidence and abruptly left town. She hasn’t been seen anywhere in just over two weeks.”

It didn’t make sense. Drew thought of the little boy, wondering if the kid belonged to Addison or Everett.

“The evidence Addison provided against Everett is excellent, but I think she knows more.”

“If the evidence is so great, why do you need more?”

Thomas sighed. “Because I was informed last night that Everett escaped during a transfer between facilities.”

Drew swore, unable to sit still any longer. He shifted in the chair, pushed a hand through his hair. “How’d you let that happen?”

“I didn’t.” The director’s voice went cold. “Reviewing everything we have, I’ve concluded Everett’s connections are too good. I believe Addison can confirm my suspicions and help me plug what must be a leak on the government side.”

Better and better, Drew thought, but he couldn’t get the image of Addison, scared and on the run, out of his mind. “What did Everett do?”

“Based on this initial evidence, he’s used his contacts among import-export businesses to start a sideline brokering deals for controlled software and hard intel on human assets in sensitive areas. We’re not yet sure if it started as his idea or—”

“She had nothing to do with that.”

“You sound sure.”

“I am.” No matter how she’d moved on with her life, Addison wasn’t a traitor. He could only imagine how angry she’d been to discover the secrets this Everett guy had been hiding.

“For the record, I agree with you.”

No surprise. Thomas would’ve done all the background research on everyone involved in what must be a fiasco from the government side. It wouldn’t take much legwork to look at Addison’s background and find her first near-miss marriage. He clenched his fist. Her fiancé would’ve heard all about her past without the hassle of gathering intel. “Why am I here?”

“As I said, she’s gone missing, and I think you’re just the man to find her.”

Would his past never stay buried? “I don’t know anything about her anymore.”

“Which is precisely the kind of advantage I’m looking for. No one on my team has found a trace of her since her BMW wound up in a used car lot in Arizona.”

Just because she’d been south and east of San Francisco didn’t mean she’d keep going that direction. “That leaves a lot of territory to cover. What about Everett?”

Thomas’s expression clouded over. “Also off the radar right now. He could very well be searching for Ms. Collins, too, planning to buy her off or to silence her.”

Drew understood which option was more likely. Addison had integrity in spades.

“My hope,” Thomas continued, “is that you can find her first and bring her in. I can protect her.”

Drew felt a hot lick of panic. This couldn’t be happening. “What do you expect me to do? What do I tell her?” He’d seen the fallen hero obituary in the scrapbook his father had created. He’d read the few letters Addison had written to his dad in the months following their interrupted wedding and his capture. “She thinks I’m dead.”

“I understand this is overwhelming,” Thomas said. “We have resources here. Why don’t you consider yourself a consultant? Give me a direction, some idea where she might be hiding, and help guide the team I send out to find her.”

If Drew’s gut instinct was right and Addison was heading to her home turf, Thomas’s team wouldn’t stand a chance. The woman he’d known, the woman he’d planned to marry, had always been ferociously independent and smart as a whip. If she was on the run and didn’t want to be found, there was only one place she’d go. And if anyone cornered her there, she’d strike first and ask for identification later.

“No.” Resigned, Drew accepted his fate. He couldn’t leave this to anyone else. Whether or not he was thrilled by the idea of seeing her again, he figured he was the only one with a chance of convincing her to come out of hiding. “I’ll find her.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had since they dumped this on my desk,” Thomas admitted.

“I’ll need gear.”

“We have the best.”

“I’ll need cash for a car and cell phone in addition to the travel expenses.”

Thomas pursed his lips. “Done.”

“I’ll find Addison, but I can’t promise to bring her in.” He cut off Thomas’s automatic protest. “We both know she won’t be safe until Everett and that leak are contained. She knows that, too. I’ll monitor the news and do my best, but don’t count on a quick resolution where she’s concerned.”

“Agreed.” Thomas pressed a button on his phone. “My assistant will show you downstairs. Take whatever you need to get the job done.”

“Yes, sir.” If he thought about timelines and proximity, he’d lose it. Reminding himself life was a day-to-day effort, he focused on the first step: gearing up.

The T-shirt, warm-up pants and sneakers weren’t going to hold up to what amounted to a manhunt through some difficult terrain.

Drew turned in his seat when the door opened and stood up as the receptionist returned. If he was right, if he still knew the woman at all, he’d soon be face-to-face with Addison. Surreal was a vast understatement. He couldn’t decide if he should be terrified or ecstatic at the prospect. He supposed her reaction would help him decide.