Incriminating Evidence (30 page)

“What did you do?”

“I drove to Baltimore, parked my stupidly expensive sports car—graduation present from my dad—on a city street and jumped on a city bus. I’d never ridden a bus before—not like that, anyway—not through the projects, not to truly see what life was like outside the bubble. It wasn’t a field trip to a museum or a lark with friends for a night on the town, where we’d take a cab home because we could afford it. It was a city bus, taking people to and from work. To the hospital. To the grocery store. I don’t think I ever realized some people had to take the bus to the grocery store. How do they carry their purchases home without a car? I did the math as I looked at grocery bags, realizing that because they had to buy the smallest size of items that were far cheaper in bulk—laundry detergent, milk, things that are
heavy
—I finally saw exactly how high the cost of living is for the people who can least afford it.

“I rode that bus all day. I talked to people. It was eye-opening. Late in the day, I gave up my seat to a seven-year-old girl who was bald. It was obvious she was in cancer treatment. The girl’s immune system had to be fragile, and she had to ride the bus. I emptied my wallet, giving everything I had to her mother. Then I insisted we take the bus back to my car, so I could give it to her.”

“Seriously?”

“Hell, yeah. She was nervous at first. Like she thought I was some sort of scam artist. The bus driver had gotten to know me that day, and he believed me. He switched the route indicator to ‘out of service’ and drove straight to my car. She sold it, bought something reliable, and with the excess rented an apartment near the hospital.”

“What happened to the girl?”

“She won that round.”

Isabel heard the meaning behind that. “But there were more.”

“It was leukemia. There were more. She survived the next one too. But when she was eighteen, she lost the battle.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” His eyes glistened as his nostrils flared. He took a deep breath. She’d stumbled upon one of the memories that triggered tears. “She’d be twenty-one now. The same age I was the day we met.”

“I’m sorry, Alec.”

“So am I.”

“None of this is in your bio.”

“Hell, no. It’s private. I did it for Keisha and her mom, not because it would make me look good. Keisha’s mom is one of my campaign volunteers, but I’ve forbidden her from telling anyone how we met.”

“So when did you decide to join the Army?”

“That day. On the bus. I knew, in my gut, it was what I wanted. I think I’d always known I needed to serve. I’d been given everything, and I needed to give back. Finally, after I gave away my car and my money, the bus passed a recruiting office. I pulled the cord, thanked the driver, and got off. I stepped into a new world, but it was the one I was meant for.”

“So that’s how you ended up in the Army, but how did you come back to politics?”

“Army life was harder than everything I’d experienced before. I mean, I’d thought Harvard was hard, but Harvard has nothing on a drill sergeant. But even so, after a certain point it became clear that I was again on the smooth, gilded path. Officer, command, even though I hadn’t been ROTC in college, my parents called people, and magically, those became available to me. My parents wanted me to get a safe job at the Pentagon and avoid combat.

“So I applied to Ranger school. It took a few years to get in, but once I succeeded, they couldn’t deny me combat tours. Hell, they trained me too well not to use me.”

“How long were you in the Army?”

“Almost twelve years.”

“How long have you been out?”

“Nearly three.”

“Did you leave the Army because you wanted to buy Raptor?”

“No. I left because my mother was dying—also leukemia. She wanted me home for her final days, and I couldn’t deny her that. She passed away four months after I left the service.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry for that too.”

His arm tightened around her. “Thanks. She…well, we had issues because I’d joined the Army instead of following the path she wanted, but she was my mom. We remained close. ” He idly traced circles on her back. “Within a month of my leaving the service, the deal for Raptor was in the works. I had money—trust fund, inheritance, investments that paid off and then some. An insane amount of money, which meant I could buy the company outright. No need for investors. I could run it my way, undo the damage Robert Beck had done.”

She glanced around the room, glad it wasn’t festooned with Beck’s garish rococo furniture. This room, at least, looked like it belonged to Alec. “And this is all yours now.”

“Yep.” He grabbed her ass and pulled her closer. “And everything in it is mine.”

She laughed, strangely not put off by the idea of belonging to Alec. She’d never belonged to anyone before. Never really belonged anywhere. “And the senate seat? Why politics now?”

He smiled. “I still haven’t gotten to that?”

She chuckled. “No.”

“A few years ago, Senator Talon resigned, causing a power vacuum. Everyone expected the woman who replaced him to run for the seat in her own right, but she declined. Finishing out his term was enough for her. Maryland has always been a toss-up state. With my background—Harvard, Army, Rangers, and Raptor business experience, a lot of people put pressure on me to run. I could draw votes from both ends of the political spectrum.”

“You’re young for a senator, though, aren’t you?”

“If I win, I’ll turn thirty-six right after the swearing in. Young for a first term, but not unheard of. And frankly, I think every three months in Afghanistan adds about three years to life experience.”

“What was the kicker? It doesn’t sound like you wanted politics. What made you decide to run?”

“Two things. My mom, for starters. I’ve always felt guilty I hadn’t followed the path she wanted. Now she’s gone. It was something I could do for her. Too late, but not too little.”

“And the other?”

“The US Attorney General. We became friends after he vetted me to purchase Raptor. Curt called me and said he wanted, just once, for a politician he could believe in to run for office. Curt’s opinion means the world to me, and he’s a man who made his name going after crooked politicians. It’s hard to ignore a plea like that.”

She’d known he and the attorney general were friends but hadn’t realized they were so close. “And now? How do
you
feel? Do you want it?”

“Honestly, Isabel, I’ve learned something these last few days. I thought I was doing this for my mom. But what’s happened here is jeopardizing the campaign. Like everything I’ve ever done—with the exception of being a Ranger—politics was
mine
. A cakewalk. In the bag.” He glanced sideways at her. “Until you came along and got the compound closed. That was the first ripple. Then there was that trouble with one of my campaign aides last month. Now I’m told my disappearance is being called a publicity stunt. Stimson, my opponent, is saying I’m wasting FBI resources investigating a faked abduction at the same time he’s casting suspicion on me being involved in something dirty. When I announce the training is canceled tomorrow, I’ll be defaulting on a government contract. That won’t go over well. It costs the government a lot to pull these trainings together—and I’m not talking about the fees Raptor charges, I’m talking about the administrative end that can’t be refunded. My campaign manager is freaking out. I bet there are ten messages on my phone since I checked at midnight.” He grimaced. “Right now, the campaign is in havoc. I could lose this thing.

“And the one thing I’ve realized in all this is, I want it. Not because of my mom. Not because Curt stroked my ego. But because it’s right. For me. Just like the Army was right. I
need
to serve. I served as a soldier for as long as I could. And when it was time to do something else, I thought Raptor would fulfill that need. And it does, but it’s not enough. As a senator, I can serve, I can give back to this country that has given so much to me and my family.”

“What will you do if you lose?”

His voice hardened. “One thing I’ve learned in the Army: never plan to lose. Losing is not an option.”

A
yell tore Isabel from sleep. She sat bolt upright before she was fully awake, disoriented, heart pounding. The man by her side let out another low groan. He sounded like he was in excruciating pain. “Alec,” she said, gently touching his shoulder. “You’re having a nightmare.”

His face turned toward her. His eyes were open but eerily blank.

“Alec?”

He lunged toward her, hands reaching for her throat. She scrambled backward and fell from the bed, her feet still tangled in the bedding.

He growled—pure predator—and grabbed her ankle. She kicked upward to free herself, connecting with his chin. Freed, she crab-walked backward to escape. “Alec! Wake up!”

He froze with his head cocked, then looked to his left, as if a sound had drawn his attention. With a roar, he launched himself off the bed and landed on top of her.

She tried to knee him in the balls, but he deflected the blow.

He’s going to kill me.

She shoved at him, but he was too heavy. Too strong. She swung out, aiming for the healing cut on his temple, connecting with her fist.

Alec cursed as he released her and fell backward.

Isabel scooted back until she hit the wall, wondering if she should grab the gun on the nightstand. The one he’d given her and said he wanted her to carry at all times for protection.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision. “Alec. It’s me.” She suppressed a sob. “Isabel.”

She crawled toward the nightstand, then stopped, out of his reach but short of being able to grab the weapon.

This is Alec. My Alec.

She couldn’t aim a loaded gun at him. Ever.

“Iz?” he asked softly. She met his gaze in the dark room, just discerning that his eyes were focused. They widened in shock. “Oh my God. Iz. I—”

He reached for her, but she held up a hand. “Prove you’re awake. What did I tell you my name was when we first met?”

“Jenna Hayes.”

Relief swamped her. She leaned toward the nightstand and turned the switch on the lamp.

He blinked in the sudden light. “Did I…attack you?”

She nodded.

Blood dripped down his temple. She’d reopened the gash. “Oh, Iz.” He ran a hand across his face. “Honey. I’m so sorry.”

He hadn’t hurt her. Not really. But what did it mean? Had he dreamed he was assaulting her, or someone else?

Hard to believe that just hours ago, he’d been inside her, that she’d held his gaze until a hard, fast orgasm caused her to close her eyes as she came apart. He’d made love to her to erase her fear, but now she feared
him
.

“It’s okay.” She forced the words out, knowing she didn’t mean them.

Losing is not an option. Even in his nightmares he refuses to lose.

“No, it’s not.” He stood and took a step toward her but stopped short when she backed up, remaining out of his reach.

“Was that PTSD?” Guilt swamped her. Here she was, suspicious and afraid, and the episode had probably been triggered because he served his country. Like Vin and so many others.

“Not PTSD. I’ve never had anything like that happen before.” He shook his head as if to clear it. Again, he ran a hand over his face. “I dreamed I was in a cave, strapped to a table, in agony. No one touched me. It was eerily silent—almost like negative noise—silence so loud it blocked everything, even my ability to think.

“Then a sound broke through—ironically, the words were from a musical, the one about the hills being alive with music.”

She swallowed as the meaning of that sank in. “The title song from
The Sound of Music
?”

He nodded. “You, your voice, jarred me out of my agonized trance, and I yelled out. A man wearing a ski mask and some sort of voice-altering mouthpiece came into my line of vision and hit me in the solar plexus with a thick stick, knocking the wind out of me so I couldn’t make a sound.” His gaze dropped to his wrists. “The restraints were simple Velcro—probably so they wouldn’t leave obvious marks—but that also meant they were weak. Probably not a problem when I was being zapped with infrasound, but that pain had stopped. I was alert. And enraged.”

His jaw was tight with anger. His fingers curled into a fist. He stared at his hand, then met her gaze, his eyes clear but burning with leashed fury. “I’m well trained to channel that rage into brute force. I ripped my right hand free and grabbed the stick. Using it for leverage, I got my hands on the man in the mask and pinned him to the table. I felt a blow on my temple. Then I woke up—or blacked out. I’m not sure.”

She cleared her throat, about to ask if he’d seen the lynx petroglyph, when there was a sharp knock on the outside door. Isabel glanced at the clock. Five a.m. Who the hell would come knocking at this hour?

“Shit,” Alec said. “This early means it must be important.”

Isabel grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on, while Alec donned his jeans. He didn’t bother with a shirt and wrenched open the bedroom door. Isabel followed him through the sitting room.