Authors: Catherine Mann
“I
understand.”
As
he
replayed
the
events
now
he
realized
the
couple
had
stumbled
on
them,
leaving
no choice
but
to
bring
them
along.
Therefore,
they
weren’t
to
be
trusted.
Yet
he’d
been
studying,
lunching,
talking
with
these
people
and
all
the
others
on
a
daily
basis.
What
about Felicia?
He
shuddered
to
think
that
if
they
hadn’t
been
together
she
would
have
been
left
in
that
“snake’s nest”
when
these
big
men
garbed
in
black
pulled
him
out.
He
might
not
totally
trust
her,
but
he
couldn’t
stop the
feelings
that
kicked
him
in
the
gut
every
time
her
high
heels
tapped
into
the
room.
Gracie
leaned
closer,
her
voice
a
half
whisper
even
though
the
drone
of
the
plane
engines
drowned
out
most sound.
“What
about
the
woman?
Is
she
your
girlfriend
or
something?”
“Felicia?
What
bearing
does
she
have
on
all
of
this?”
“She’s
the
whole
reason
we
went
inside
in
the
first
place.” Felicia?He
thought
they’d
come
for
him.
He
really
didn’t
like
the
uneasy
feeling
itching
up
his
spine.
“I’m
not
following.”
“Just
as
you’ve
been
silent
for
so
long,
so
has
she.”
“That’s
a
problem
because?”
“We
had
to
make
sure
she
hadn’t
gone
to
the
other
side.”
Ah,
shit,
he
started
to
see
where
she
was
going
with
this
and
he
was
pretty
damn
certain
he
wasn’t
going
to like
it.
“Care
to
elaborate?”
“Daddy,
Felicia
Fratarcanhoweverthehellyouprounouncehername
is
an
agent
from
the
United
Nation’s IAEA.”
He
could
see
her
hesitation
about
revealing
any
extra
information
at
all.
He
was
damn
lucky
to
have
even gotten
that
much
out
of
her,
likely
only
because
Felicia’s
cover
was
blown
now,
anyway.
Felicia.
An
agent
doing
her
job
looking
for
leaks,
and
what
better
place
to
start
than
mentally
unstable Matthias
Lanier.
Damn.
He
could
have
sworn
his
ex
had
hardened
his
heart
against
traitorous
women
long
ago.
“The
International
Atomic
Energy
Agency.
Well,
hell.”
Not
a
student.
He
should
have
guessed
by
how much
she
already
seemed
to
know
on
the
topic.
Which
brought
to
mind
a
question
even
his
lotterywinning IQ
couldn’t
decipher.
What
was
her
agenda
for
hitting
on
him?
Because
damn
it,
he
could
not
deceive
himself
that
she
wanted
him for
any
reason
other
than
outside
political
manipulation.
BOBBY
WAITEDout
behind
the
shower
stalls
for
Gracie,
certain
she
could
come
to
him.
Sorta
certain.
Face
had
delivered
the
note
for
him,
which
made
him
feel
like
some
freaking
high
schooler.
But
God,
he
had to
see
her
alone
and
hold
her
for
just
a
minute
to
feel
her
warm
and
alive
against
him
after
the
stress
of waiting
and
waiting
and
waiting
for
like
a
century
for
her
to
come
back
out
of
that
university
retreat compound
alive.
He
would
hug
her
for
three
minutes,
tops.
Let
her
heart
do
that
thump,
thump
against
him
and
then
he
would feel
it
do
the
skippety
bump
when
he
kissed
her.
That
would
be
it.
There
didn’t
need
to
be
more
unless
she totally
agreed.
Except
where
the
hell
was
she?
He
was
just
strung
tight
after
the
mission,
which
was
ridiculous
since
the thing
had
been
an
unmitigated
success.
They
should
be
celebrating.
Now.
He
narrowed
his
eyes
and
didn’t see
any
more
wildlife
around
than
normal—birds
and
monkeys
up
high
snoozing,
owls
hooting.
The
moonlight
was
kind
of
romantic
and,
man,
was
he
turning
into
a
sap
thicker
than
the
stuff
seeping
from the
tree
he
leaned
against.
His
mind
raced
with
images
of
her
tangling
with
a
Sergio
II
in
her
shower
stall,
but
sheesh,
he
couldn’t
go blasting
through
all
the
stalls.
He’d
never
live
that
one
down
and
Gracie
really
could
protect
herself.
She
was every
bit
as
much
a
trained
professional
as
he
was.
Soooo.
His
hand
inched
down
for
his
knife
anyhow.
Just
’cause
he
liked
to
have
it
in
hand
to
hack
through
the brush
or
peel
some
fruit
if
need
be.
“Gracie?”
he
called
out,
not
caring
who
knew
they
were
hooking
up
since
he
was
damned
worried.
He waited
for
the
answer.
Silence.
And
dark.
“Grace
Marie?”
That
should
really
shake
her
up
since
he
never
used
her
full
name.
He
walked
deeper
into
the
shadows
as
the foliage
grew
thicker.
He
strained.
Listened
with
his
instincts
honed
from
the
streets
rather
than
his
ears.
And
he
heard
it.
A
low squeak.
Not
far
away
at
all,
but
in
the
dense
trees
beyond
the
shower
stalls.
Without
another
thought,
he
sprinted
ahead,
kicking
aside
brush.
Whacking
at
bramble
with
his
knife
and arms,
branches
scratching
at
his
face.
He
knew
it,
even
if
he
didn’t
feel
it.
Too
focused
on
Gracie.
No
emotion.
No
room
or
time
or
thought
for
anything
but
following
his
instincts
as
they
sucked
him
into
the jungle
like
a
buoy
being
winched
up
into
a
helicopter.
Faster
his
feet
carried
him,
hewould
reach
his destination.
His
eyes
adjusted
to
darkness
and
found…
Two
tangling
bodies.
Gracie.
And
a
man
dressed
all
in
black.
She
was
holding
her
own,
by
God,
but
he
had
his
hand
over
her
mouth.
They
rolled
and
tumbled.
Her
knee found
purchase
in
his
gut,
just
shy
of
pay
dirt
between
the
man’s
legs.
Bobby
couldn’t
risk
using
his
knife
and
possibly
hurting
Gracie,
so
he
tossed
it
far
away
into
a
tree
where
it couldn’t
be
snagged
by
the
enemy.
Silently.
Stealthily,
he
stepped
forward.
Waited
for
the
right
moment when
the
man
was
on
top
and…
And
pounced.
He
grabbed
the
man
and
hefted
him
off
Gracie,
landing
a
punch
across
his
jaw,
the
man’s
garlicandonion breath
a
gagging
stench
of
evil.
The
masked
man
tried
to
reach
for
a
weapon,
but
Bobby
struck
again
as Gracie
swept
her
leg
under
her
attacker’s
sending
him
flying
backward.
He
landed
on
the
ground,
his
head
hitting
a
rock
with
an
ominous
crack.
He
stared
up
with
unblinking, sightless
eyes.
Bobby
checked
for
a
pulse
just
to
be
certain…
Dead.
“Gracie,”
Bobby
managed
to
squeeze
out
past
the
lump
in
his
throat,
shifting
from
no
emotion
to
too
much.
Way
too
much
on
a
night
when
he
was
already
stretched
to
the
max
from
worrying
about
her
going
into
that university
compound.
He
couldn’t
handle
this…this…everything.
He
felt
like
a
fiveyearold
again
at
the mercy
of
his
ADHD,
unable
to
handle
everything
catapulting
at
him
from
a
thousand
directions.
Thinking
of Gracie
dying
cut
loose
the
constraints
on
his
control
until
his
brain
couldn’t
contain
it
all.
Gasping,
her
cheek
bruised,
she
held
out
a
hand
for
him
to
help
haul
her
to
her
feet
and
then
she
tucked under
his
arm.
“I’m
okay.
I’m
okay,”
she
repeated
as
if
to
reassure
herself.
He
couldn’t
manage
more
than,
“Good.”
“We
need
to
notify
the
camp
in
case
there
are
more
like
him
out
there.” Damn.
He
should
have
thought
of
that
himself.
Yet
another
example
of
how
Gracie
screwed
with
his
head and
not
in
a
good
way.
He
pulled
her
into
his
arms—hard,
no
control—and
knew
he
was
probably
bruising her
ribs
and
he
couldn’t
stop
himself.
It
felt
so
freaking
clichéd,
but
how
could
something
that
felt
so
good
be so
very
bad
for
him?
And
more
importantly,
bad
for
her.
GRACIE
TROMPEDdown
the
side
steps
of
the
C17
cargo
plane
General
Renshaw
had
used
for
a
private debrief
without
their
four
“captives”
from
the
compound,
plus
investigating
the
attack
on
her.
They
were being
interrogated
separately
in
tents
by
different
officers.
There
didn’t
seem
to
be
any
other
strangers lurking
around,
but
security
was
tightened
all
the
same.
Exhaustion
pulled
at
her
eyes
and
legs
and
heart.
She
wanted
to
find
a
bed,
or
better
yet
a
broad
Bobby
chest to
curl
up
against
and
sleep
until
she
had
her
sea
legs
back
under
her
again
after
two
lifeanddeath situations.
Then
she
would
speak
with
her
father.
Seeing
the
levelness
in
his
eyes
had
been
a
relief,
but
she
still
had
no
idea
what
might
have
come
before.
She loved
her
old
man
so
much,
but
the
pain
and
worry
that
came
with
that
love,
well…
Exhaustion
tugged harder,
heavier.
Yes,
she
wanted
to
find
Bobby,
but
first
she
needed
to
speak
with
her
dad.
The
General
had
given
her
the okay,
and
that
okay
was
more
like
an
implied
order
to
see
if
she
could
find
out
anything
more.
She
prayed nothing
she
heard
would
put
her
love
for
her
father
at
odds
with
her
obligation
to
her
sworn
vow
to
defend her
country.
She
tapped
lightly
on
the
tent
flap.
“Dad,
it’s
me.
Can
I
come
in?”
“Sure,
baby
girl,”
her
father’s
voice
answered
steadily.
She
swept
aside
the
green
flap
and
entered
to
find
her
father
sitting
at
a
small
desk.
She
ran
to
kneel
in
front of
him
and
hug
hard
before
inching
back.
The
issue
couldn’t
be
avoided
any
longer.
“Daddy,
are
you
okay?
Because
if
you’re
in
any
kind
of
trouble,
tell
me
now
and
I
can
help.”
She
gulped down
the
fear
that
it
would
be
something
that
could
compromise
her
integrity.
Worstcase
scenario,
she could
lobby
for
a
hospital.
He
cupped
her
face
in
his
hands.
“Baby
girl,
I’m
fine.
As
fine
as
I’ve
ever
been
or
can
be.
I’m
sticking
to
the regimen.
Look
in
my
eyes.
Deeply.
You
have
a
perceptive
heart,
part
of
why
you’re
so
good
at
this
job
of yours
you
took
with
the
notsosubtle
need
to
cure
your
old
man.
Go
ahead
and
sit
in
your
counselor’s
chair for
a
minute
if
it
makes
it
easier
for
you.”
“Not
cure.”
She
placed
her
hands
over
his.
“Understanding
does
help.” Their
clutched
hands
fell
on
his
knees.
“Well,
you
can
trot
a
slew
of
shrinks
through
here
and
I’m
going
to test
out
fine.”
He
continued
to
meet
her
penetrating
gaze
without
flinching.
“And
you
know
that
in
my
right mind—hell,
even
in
a
wrong
mind—I
would
never
betray
my
country.
I
assume
that’s
what
this
is
all
about.” Tears
filled
her
eyes,
the
hot,
burning
kind
of
extreme
relief
as
his
words
took
hold
and
made
sense.
“I
told myself
that
and
hoped
it
was
true,
but
Daddy,
you
brought
up
a
very
pragmatic
daughter
even
before
I became
a
counselor.”
“That
I
did.”
He
squeezed
her
hands.
She
swallowed
down
the
tears,
refusing
to
let
her
emotions
control
her.
She
shoved
to
her
feet
and
sat
on
the edge
of
his
cot.
“I
wanted
to
be
sure
that
even
in
a
worstcase
scenario,
you
would
be
protected.”
“Isn’t
it
a
father’s
role
to
protect
his
child?”
A
selfdeprecating
smile
kicked
up
one
side
of
his
face.
“You
took
care
of
me
and
loved
me.
Love
is
a
giveandtake
and
givesomemore
kind
of
thing.”
“I’m
sorry
you
had
to
learn
so
young.”
“And
I’m
glad
that
I
learned.”
She
owed
him
some
peace.
He’d
truly
done
the
best
he
could
for
a
man
given a
heavy
load
in
life.
“You’re
a
better
kid
than
I
deserve.”
“That’s
up
for
debate.”
She
reached
her
hand
out
to
meet
his
in
their
special
handshake,
two
fists
thunking, up,
down,
sideways,
up
again,
then
holding.
She’d
been
five
when
they
first
started
that.
She
did
love
him
so
much.
Her
father,
sometimes
her
playmate
and
always
her
friend.
“So
tell
me
about
this
chick
you
were
making
out with.
Things
looked
pretty
hot
and
heavy.”
Not
exactly
a
highranking
topic
in
her
personal
list
of
favorite
conversations
with
Dad,
but
then,
she couldn’t
deny
a
definite
curiosity.
He’d
never
been
the
kind
of
man
whose
head
turned
easily.
He
went
silent.
“No
kissing
and
telling,
huh?
Interesting.
Maybe
I
can
get
more
out
of
her.
I
am
a
master
interrogator,
you know.”
“I
imagine
it’s
a
waste
of
breath
to
tell
you
to
leave
well
enough
alone.”
“I
did
get
Mom’s
stubbornness.”
The
only
good
thing
she’d
inherited
from
the
Machiavellian
woman.
Right now,
her
mother
was
sunning
in
Hawaii
off
the
alimony
Matthias
had
surrendered
just
to
keep
his
child
out of
the
woman’s
grasp.
A
tap
sounded
on
the
tarp
door.
Since
Gracie
knew
Ms.
Fratarwhat’shername
had
been
cleared
by
the General,
she
said,
“Ten
to
one
that’s
her.
Maybe
I’ll
pump
her
for
information
now.”
“And
maybe
you
won’t.”
Jesus,
she
hadn’t
heard
that
stern
a
voice
since
she
was
a
teenager.
“Okeydoke,
then.
You’re
the
parent.”
“That’s
right,
baby
girl.”
He
rose
to
his
feet.
“You’ll
be
the
first
to
know
if
there’s
anythingto
know.” He
swept
open
the
tent
flap,
ushering
Grace
Marie
out
while
waving
Ms.
What’shername
inside.
Her father’s
private
life
had
been
such
hell
at
times,
thanks
to
her
mother,
and
God
knows
his
illness
had
brought grief.
He
deserved
whatever
happiness
he
could
find
and
no
way
did
she
intend
to
tamper
with
that,
no matter
how
curious
she
might
be
about
the
woman
in
the
skintight
red
dress.
Damn.
This
woman
had
a
good
cover
for
her
spy
work,
because
she
looked
the
least
like
a
secret
agent
of anyone
Grace
Marie
could
envision,
but
the
clothes
could
be
a
great
disguise.
She
smiled
and
made
a
hasty retreat
out
of
the
room,
closing
the
flap
behind
her.
Grace
Marie
slumped
back
against
the
tent
feeling
suddenly
bereft.
She
couldn’t
escape
the
sense
that
her dad
didn’t
need
her
anymore.
Had
she
allowed
his
dependence
on
her
to
be
an
excuse
not
to
live
her
own
life?
A
distinct
possibility
that any
shrink
worth
her
salt
would
consider.
Her
eyes
skirted
the
camp
to
Bobby’s
tent,
then
over
to
her
van
full
of
memories.
Privacy
was
tough
to
find in
this
place,
but
she
was
darn
near
as
smart
as
her
old
man.
Time
to
think
about
herself
for
a
change.
FELICIA
STOODin
the
middle
of
Matt’s
private
tent,
wondering
what
he
thought
of
her.
Completing
her debrief
had
been
interminably
long
when
all
she
wanted
was
to
find
Matt
and
pray
the
coldness
of
betrayal had
left
his
eyes.
Best
to
cut
right
to
the
chase.
“I
couldn’t
tell
you.”
He
finished
securing
the
tent
flap
closed.
“I
realize
that.” She
twisted
her
hands
together
and
waited
for
him
to
face
her.
Perhaps
then
she
could
read
his
eyes
and know
what
to
say
next.
She
had
training
in
communication
and
winning
people
over,
yet
all
the
knowledge felt
jumbled
inside
her
right
now
Finally,
he
turned
toward
her,
his
face
totally
inscrutable,
and
cold,
so
very
cold.
“So
you’re
with
the IAEA.”
“Yes.”
Keep
the
answers
simple
until
she
could
determine
his
stance.
He
stepped
deeper
into
the
tent,
closer
to
her.
“Your
making
contact
with
me
was
to
ensure
I
hadn’t
turned to
the
other
side.”
“Yes
again.
I
had
to
consider
that
possibility
with
everyone
in
the
retreat.”
“Did
you
kiss
everyone
in
the
retreat?”
Ah,
he
was
hurt,
too.
She
hated
that
even
as
relief
surged
through
her.
“No.
Only
you
slipped
past
my defenses
and
wrecked
all
my
professional
training
with
a
single
absentminded
smile.”
“So
you
say.
Or
perhaps
you
were
most
concerned
about
me
being
susceptible
to
traitorous
suggestion because
you’re
well
aware
of
my
psychological
history.”