Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
Lindsey was surprised. “You just met this guy!”
“I’ve known him for longer than you knew Mark when you and he first, you know,” Tracy defended herself. “Got busy.”
“Yeah,” Lindsey said. “That was stupid, too.”
Tess raised her hand. “Vice president of that club.”
“I mean, not in hindsight,” Lindsey added, “because it all worked out, but…I was lucky.”
“I was lucky, too,” Sophia said, “when I met Dimitri.”
All three women turned to look at her in surprise.
“My husband,” Sophia told Tracy.
“I know,” she said. “You just…” She glanced at Lindsey and Tess. “You never talk about him. Ever.”
“He was perfect,” Sophia said. “A lot like you described Michael. At first, I didn’t believe he was for real. And he wasn’t. Not totally. He didn’t really like red wine, or…Well. It took him a while to admit that he didn’t love everything I loved. But he wasn’t lying about being in love with me, which was pretty instantaneous when we first met. For both of us. So…it can happen. And I’m glad, now, that I didn’t wait a single minute.”
Tracy, Lindsey and Tess were silent.
Way to kill a dinner conversation—by talking about her dead husband.
The waiter, of course, delivered their meals, placing heaping plates of food in front of them.
“Bon appétit,” he said.
But there they sat. Not eating.
Lindsey reached across the table and took Sophia’s hand. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you to lose him.”
“It was a nightmare,” Sophia said. Literally. She took a deep breath. “I think this is why I don’t talk about him because it’s…too hard to process, you know? I know you worry about Mark, when he goes to Afghanistan or Iraq…” She looked across the table at Tess, who clearly worried about Jim Nash
all
of the time.
“We’re grown-ups,” Lindsey said. “We can deal.”
“You should be able to talk about him,” Tracy spoke up. “Just because he’s gone now…It doesn’t mean he didn’t exist, that you don’t think about him, that he isn’t still important to you.” She reached over and took Sophia’s other hand. “You can talk about Dimitri with me. Any time.”
“How did you meet him?” Tess asked quietly.
Sophia looked from Tess to Lindsey to Tracy. They sat there, watching her, waiting patiently, their dinners forgotten. They truly wanted to know.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It was my birthday,” she said. “And I took a trip to Greece…”
Dave Malkoff realized that he’d spoken the magic word that never failed to ratchet Decker up to puckerfactor five thousand.
Murphy.
“You should probably know,” Dave told Decker as he came out of the men’s and into the conference room, after pulling on a less sugar-coated T-shirt, “that at the wedding? Hannah got up and sang with the band.” Which explained why she spoke so clearly. She hadn’t been born deaf. She’d had her hearing up until just a few years ago. “If I remember correctly, she was a cop. Somewhere up near Fresno, I think.”
Deck shook his head. “Shit.”
“It’s possible,” Dave said, “that she’s here looking for employment. If you want, I can talk to her. I’ll tell her you had an appointment—”
“No.”
“You don’t owe her anything.”
“Yeah,” Decker said, “but I do owe Murphy.”
“Sorry that took so long.” Hannah came into the room, her hair damp. “I had some whipped cream in my…” She pointed to her curls as she looked around the room, at the big conference table, the plush chairs. She sat down on the very edge of the one closest to the door. “This really isn’t necessary. I’m only here to see if you’ve heard from Vinh Murphy lately. See if he’d…maybe come by here. I’m, um, a friend of his and…”
“We know,” Dave told her. “I remember you from the wedding.”
Hannah looked at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I…” She shook her head.
He helped her out. Most people tended not to remember him, which had been a huge asset when he’d worked for the CIA. It wasn’t quite as useful when in conversation with attractive women. “Dave Malkoff.” He wrote his name out for her on the notepad that Deck had put on the table for that very purpose. “We talked about how you’d introduced Murph to Angelina…which is something you probably told everybody at the reception, so…you wouldn’t necessarily remember telling it to me.”
“I did tell that story a lot that day,” Hannah agreed. “It’s…nice to see you again,” she rather obviously lied.
“I haven’t seen Murphy in years.” Dave got to the point. “Zero contact with Murphy,” he wrote it down for her. He looked at Deck.
“Same here,” Decker said. “Nothing—not since he left the hospital.”
Hannah didn’t look disappointed—just resigned. “Does he still keep a weapons locker here?”
“He does.” Deck nodded. “Yes.”
“Would he be able to access it without anyone knowing?” she asked. “I mean, could he have come here and gotten his gear…?”
“Unlikely,” Decker told her, writing that down and underlining it for emphasis. “Both the main and secondary locks—and the access codes to the security system—they’re changed regularly. He’d have to get past all those levels of security in order to access his locker.”
“Of course, this
is
Murphy we’re talking about,” Dave pointed out.
“Someone would know he’d been in there,” Decker countered. “Which isn’t an impossibility. Murphy had—has—plenty of friends here.”
“That was my next question,” Hannah said. “Can we check with the rest of your staff?” She fished in her pocket for a piece of paper. “I made a list of the people he’s talked about,” she explained, flattening the paper out on the table in front of her. She read aloud. “Decker—that’s you, someone named Nash, Tess, Dave.” She looked up at him, nodding, “Lindsey, Diego, James, Tom, Cosmo, Sophia…”
Decker waited until she looked back up at him to say, “The Tom on your list is Tom Paoletti. He’s Troubleshooters’ CEO—and CO. Commanding Officer. He’s out of town this week, along with his second in command, Alyssa Locke and
her
XO, Sam, or I’d take you in to meet them. You know, Murph was one of the first operatives Tom hired, right after he opened for business. Murphy and then Dave.”
Dave nodded. “I didn’t work with Murphy all that often,” he told Hannah. “But the few times I did…He had a joie de vivre that was…” Irrepressible, he was going to say. Instead he cleared his throat and pointed to her list. “James Nash is on your list three times.” He wrote on the pad,
James = Nash = Diego—same person.
“Not that he’s Latino or anything. He’s just…pretentious.”
“I heard that,” Nash said from the hall. He leaned into the room as Hannah used her teeth to uncap a pen she’d taken from her pocket, making notes on her list.
Of course,
she
hadn’t heard
him,
so Decker tapped the table in front of her to get her attention. “Nash,” he said, pointing behind her at the man. She turned to look at him, her eyes widening slightly as women’s eyes often did when they first looked at Nash.
Deck spoke to him. “I thought you left.”
“Flight got cancelled,” he reported. “Next one’s not until ten-thirty. What’s up? Did I hear you talking about Vinh Murphy?”
Decker quickly filled him in.
Dave knew Nash’s side had to be hurting like hell, but he hid it completely—God forbid Decker find out that he’d been shot while out doing God knows what. The man’s luck was holding, because he was on his way to an assignment which would keep him away from Tess for another three days. At which point his injury would be healed enough to be able to pass it off as something less alarming than a bullet wound.
Although, knowing Tess, it was likely she wouldn’t be fooled.
“Have
you
heard anything from Murph lately?” Deck asked Nash now.
“I haven’t,” Nash reported, with an apologetic smile to Hannah. “I’m sorry.”
“Will you check with Tess?” Decker asked as Nash, too, took a seat at the table.
“I’ll text her, right now.” Nash got out his cell phone.
“She’s having dinner with Lindsey,” Decker pointed out. “Check with her, as well.”
“Sophia’s with them, too,” Dave said.
Decker nodded. “That’s right. She’s, um, also here today. She’s primarily support staff,” he told Hannah, “but she and Murph were friends.”
Sophia was, indeed, “um, also here today.” Dave, for one, had not missed the fact that her car was out in the office parking lot. She spent the bulk of her time out of the office, visiting various clients, racking up frequent flyer miles. Slim and blond and elegantly, regally,
fabulously
attractive, a savvy businessperson and top-notch deal negotiator, Sophia acted as the public face of Troubleshooters Incorporated.
She’d done some training as a field operative, and had even gone out on some real missions, but she’d realized—she’d told Dave over one of their frequent lunches at his desk—that it didn’t make sense not to take advantage of her strengths. She’d never be more than average as an operative, but let her walk into a business meeting?
She would totally kick ass.
Plus, her stepping into that role freed up Tom and Alyssa, allowing both Troubleshooters’ CO and XO to take advantage of
their
strengths.
It was a win-win.
Except it meant, more often than not these days, that Sophia was away from the San Diego office.
And now Dave ate his lunch alone.
As did Decker most days.
The two of them could’ve started a “The Office Just Isn’t the Same Without Sophia” support group—although Dave suspected that they didn’t quite share the same emotions regarding her absence. Decker appeared to experience some relief when she wasn’t around. Dave just flat-out missed her.
Of course, she called often, because she missed Dave, too. He was, after all, her good pal.
Yeah, she missed their lunches—sitting around talking about her relentless crush on…Who else?
Decker.
Life could really suck.
Except who was Dave to complain? He still had his hearing. And he still had Sophia for a friend, as screwed up as that relationship might be.
“Neither Tess, Lindsey, nor Sophia have seen Murphy since, uh, he left town,” Nash reported, having just text messaged them at dinner. “Tracy never met him. When they get back from dinner, we’ll show her his picture. That way if he does show up…”
Dave read Hannah’s list upside-down. “Cosmo Richter’s still active duty,” he said. “He’s a Navy SEAL with Sixteen—Tom’s old team. He hasn’t worked with us since…” Angelina died. He used Nash’s euphemism instead. “Since Murphy left town.”
“But Richter’s got a key,” Decker said. “And access to the alarm codes. Quite a few of Tommy’s SEALs do. We’ll follow up on that.”
“Can we check Murph’s locker and see if he’s been here?” Hannah asked.
Deck sat back in his chair. “Why do you think he has? When did
you
see him last?”
She didn’t answer right away as she looked around the table from Deck to Nash to Dave. And then she dropped one hell of a bomb. “He was at my cabin last night,” she admitted.
C
HAPTER
F
IVE
“G
et your things,” Gillman told his sister, his voice tight, “and let’s go.”
As Izzy watched, Eden lifted her chin even higher. With the last of her makeup scrubbed from her face, she looked her age. Younger. Damn, what had he done?
“I’m not going back to Vegas,” she told her brother.
“Yeah, you are,” he said. “So get your things—”
“I have no things,” Eden told him, and even though she was trying desperately hard, she couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “Everything’s gone. Congratulations. You were right about Jerry. Go on and say it—
I told you so.
He’s an asshole and a moron, and I’m an idiot for trusting him.”
“He ditched her,” Izzy told Gillman,
sotto voce,
because there was a time and place for
I told you so,
and this was so not it. “All her stuff was in his car.”
Gillman turned and gave Izzy a
fuck-you
look, but directed his words to his sister. “I see you picked a new president for your fan club. Why am I not surprised? You always gravitate directly to the total assholes.”
So much for Jenk’s promise that Gillman would thank him. Although, to be fair, it was Lopez who’d let slip the news to the fishboy that Eden was here at Izzy’s. Jenkins was probably still home in bed, resting up after throwing his gorgeous wife a bang before she left for work.
It was times like this that Izzy was genuinely envious of Jenk. When he’d gotten married, they’d all made noise like,
Oh, now you’re not going to be able to go out and have any fun.
Yeah. Truth was, the little bastard was having way more fun than Izzy, Gillman, and Lopez put together.
And right now? Whatever Jenk really was doing, even if he was cleaning his toilet, he was having tons more fun than Izzy.
Eden no doubt realized that, because she shot Izzy an apologetic look. “Danny, he let me stay here last night because I didn’t have—”
“Yeah, Zanella’s a real prince,” Gillman said. “He’s always doing favors for me.”
“I’m pretty sure the favor was for me.”
“For the record,” Izzy started, but Gilligan cut him off.
“You’re not part of this discussion.”
“Yeah, I am,” Izzy said. “I’m standing right here—you’re in my living room, and you’re discussing
me.
The favor was completely for Eden, ass-wipe.”
“Yeah, and what kind of favor did
you
get in return, douchebag? Did you know that she’s only seventeen?”
“Didn’t
you
know that today’s her birthday? Some brother.” Izzy looked at Eden. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
She looked miserable, but her eyes were dry. He knew with a certainty that the dead last thing she would ever do was cry in front of Danny.
Izzy had an older brother, too. He actually had a whole pack of ’em.
“I’m so sorry about this,” she told Izzy quietly.
“So what’s your plan if you’re not going back home?” Gillman asked Eden, still heavy on the adversarial. “You going to move in here?”
“Yeah, right, Dan,” she said, sparking with anger. “I’m going to move in here, just to piss you off.” She forced herself to take a deep breath. She also squared her shoulders and said, “I know this is the last thing you want to hear but…I need to borrow some money.”
“You got that right,” Gillman said. “It’s one of the many things I don’t want to hear.”
“I’ll pay you back,” she said. “I will. I mean, not right away, but—”
“And I’m supposed to believe you’re not going to turn around and just give this as-yet-undisclosed sum to Jerry because…” Gillman let his voice trail off.
“I spoke to Dad,” Eden said quietly, and for some reason that shut Gilligan up. “If I can get the money for a plane ticket to Germany, he’ll let me stay with him for a while.”
Silence. Great big, fat, honking silence. Izzy looked down at his bare feet, because looking at Gillman suddenly felt too intimate. For some reason—and Izzy would’ve bet big money it had everything to do with the D-A-D-word—Gillman could not control the vast array of emotions that flitted, now, across his matinee-idol face.
Of course, maybe Izzy also looked away, because—shit—
Germany.
So much for his fantasy that he’d be able to call up Eden a coupla times a year—just a friend, touching base, going out for a casual lunch or coffee, letting time pass during which she’d not only get over this Jerry wonk, but she’d also turn twenty.
But now…His going to flipping Germany for lunch would not be perceived by anyone as
casual.
“Dad’s in Germany?” Gilligan finally asked his sister.
“Yeah,” Eden said. “Ramstein.”
Gillman laughed. “Jesus, Eed, if you want to go to Germany, why don’t you do it the way everyone else does?” he asked. “By enlisting in the Army.”
“Okay.” Eden sat down on the couch, crossing her million-dollar legs beneath her. “Go for it, Danny. Lecture me for the four billionth time on why I should enlist. If I sit through it—again—without bitching and moaning, will you lend me the money for the airfare?”
“How else are you going to get to college, if you don’t enlist?” her brother said. “With your grades—”
Eden looked over at Izzy. “Danny seems to think that the Army or college are my only two choices, and that I won’t get into college
without
joining the Army, so there’s really only
one
choice. Like there’s not an entire
world
out there—”
“There
is
a third choice,” Gillman said sharply. “The women’s penitentiary.”
“Or I could be a porn star,” Eden said just as hotly. “Don’t leave that off the list, Captain Perfect.”
“Why the hell would you want anything to do with him?” Gilligan exploded. “For the love of God, Eden, Dad’s a total shit. You don’t remember—how could you? You were just a baby when he left, but he’s…Even if he said you could stay with him, he’ll probably change his mind when you get there. He does that. And then what’ll you do?”
“Then I’ll be a
German
porn star,” Eden said.
Izzy laughed—he couldn’t help himself.
Gillman savagely turned to him, a finger of warning damn near stuck up Izzy’s nose. “Stay out of this, asshole. You’re not helping.”
“It’s hard to tell what’s pissing you off more.” Izzy just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, probably because of the finger-in-his-face thing. “The fact that Eden’s willing to take a chance on your father, or the fact that he seems open to letting her come stay. Are you worried about her, or are you just jealous?”
“Fuck you!”
“Fuck you,” Izzy countered evenly. “I assume, since you didn’t answer my question, that I can put you down as big-time jealous. Which means being a
total shit
is probably hereditary.”
Gillman smiled, but his eyes were arctic cold. “You’re her new fuck-buddy. Why don’t
you
give her the money she needs to go to Germany?”
Eden spoke up. “Maybe the reason he’s willing to let me stay with him is because I didn’t threaten to kill him before he left. Dad,” she clarified as they both turned to look at her.
Izzy then looked at Gillman. “I thought you were, like, twelve when he split.” Twelve, but apparently with the balls of a thirty-year-old…
But Gillman had clearly had enough. “Go to Germany,” he told his sister. “I’ll pay for your ticket, but that’s it then. No more. When Dad kicks you out, don’t even
think
about calling me to come bail you out.”
“Thank you,” Eden said.
“I’m so going to regret this…”
“She’s going to need a passport,” Izzy pointed out.
“Crap! My passport was in my purse,” Eden told them, turning to Izzy with a great big
what do I do now
on her face.
“I’ll get it back for you,” Izzy found himself promising. “Just give me Jerry’s cell number. I’ll take care of it. I’ll get your other stuff, too.” And he’d enjoy doing it.
“You’re certainly in a hurry to see her go OCONUS,” Gilligan scoffed.
“Just trying to help,” Izzy said, “is all.”
Eden was looking at him, with those dark brown eyes that made him think of last night’s encounter. Almighty Jesus save him. “Thank you,” she said again. “It’s 702—”
Izzy took out his cell phone and plugged the number in. He turned to Gillman. “I’ll call you when I’ve got her passport back.”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Gillman told Eden.
“You’re welcome,” Izzy told him.
Eden was looking around.
“Your flip-flops are in the bathroom,” Izzy said. “You wore them in there. You can take, um, my hairbrush with you if you want.”
Her smile was wan. “Thanks. I’ll just use it here and…”
She vanished down the hall, closing the bathroom door behind her.
The silence was a
leetle
awkward.
Izzy knew what
he
was thinking about. He could only guess what color the noise was that was playing inside of Gilligan’s head.
He cleared his throat delicately. “You know, Dan, maybe you should think about going with her,” Izzy suggested. “To Germany. See your father, too.”
Gillman laughed his scorn. “Yeah, that’s a
great
idea.”
“I’m just trying—”
“Don’t.” Gillman cut him off. “Just shut the fuck up, Zanella, all right? Just because you screwed my sister, that doesn’t make us friends.”
“I didn’t—”
“She’s not real particular about who she gets with. Obviously. You might want to get checked for STDs.”
Izzy had had enough of Gillman’s sanctimonious bullshit. “Did you ever get ditched in a Krispy Kreme? You ever been abandoned, huh, Captain Perfect?” He used Eden’s nickname for him, which really was quite perfect, indeed. “Do you have
any
idea what your sister is feeling right now? She was in love with this jerk-off, and yeah, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing she’s ever done, falling for him in the first place, but it happened. And if she and I
did
hook up last night—and whether we did or not is none of your business, gutterboy—
if
we did, it was more about payback and breaking ties and feeling lost and alone and being fucking
abandoned
so just back the hell off and give Eden some space. God damn it, Dan, she’s finally doing something smart—she’s putting half the fucking globe between herself and this prick, even though a part of her is probably wondering if maybe she shouldn’t go try to patch things up—because she
loves
him. Instead, she’s looking out for herself, she’s starting over. And no, it’s not going to be easy, and no, she’s not perfect—and Jesus H. Christ, it must’ve been a nightmare growing up in
your
house, with you around—is it any fucking wonder that she doesn’t want to join the Army and live by your rules, in your world? And the
least
you could do is go to Germany with her to make sure your father isn’t really the suckhole you thought he was back when you were twelve!”
Izzy stopped to draw in a breath and realized that Eden had come out of the bathroom. She was just standing there wide-eyed, her hair back in a ponytail again, watching him lose his shit.
Verbally, that is. If he’d really lost his shit, he’d be driving Gillman to the hospital right about now.
Izzy’s living room seemed to echo with the sudden silence—talk about awkward to the nth. He had no idea where in the midst of his tirade Eden had come in.
Gillman’s body language was so clenched, he was practically folded in on himself. Arms crossed, shoulders hunched, teeth ground together, jaw muscle jumping.
Eden didn’t even look at her brother, she just stood there, gazing at Izzy.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just…Sorry.”
She didn’t move. She just stared.
“Good luck,” he tried instead. “In Germany.”
“Thanks,” she said, finally looking away, as if she were suddenly shy.
But then Izzy realized that she was glancing at her brother, making sure she had his attention. Because then she marched over to Izzy and gave him a hug.
Damn, she was soft in his arms, and he could smell his shampoo in her still-damp hair. It was beyond weird, as if he’d somehow marked her as his.
“Thank you for…everything,” she told him softly, as she stood up on her toes, her mouth against his ear.
Izzy turned his head to answer her, intending, again, to wish her luck, and she kissed him.
He knew it was for show—for Gillman’s benefit and discomfort—as was the hug. But he closed his eyes and kissed her back, this funny, fresh, vibrant, sad, partly broken girl.
Ah, God, he didn’t want this to end…
But it finally did—because Gillman stomped his way out of Izzy’s apartment.
Eden pulled back, and Izzy let her slip out of his arms.
“See ya,” she said, her bravado manufactured but securely in place, as she headed for the door.
“Call me if you’re ever back in town,” Izzy said. He couldn’t help himself.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at him. “You can do better,” she told him, giving him one last heartbreaking smile. And with that, the most beautiful woman in the world closed the door behind her.
Leaving his life for good.
Or at least until she turned nineteen and a half…
Izzy flipped open his cell phone and dialed Jerry’s number, moving to the window, so that he could watch Eden following Gillman out to his truck.
He was bumped straight to voice mail. Which would probably make things easier for everyone. “Jer!” he said, after the beep. “You don’t know me, dude, and I gotta be honest with you, you really don’t
want
to know me. So listen up—here’s what’s going to go down…”
“Is Murphy all right?” the earnest man named Dave asked.
All three of the Troubleshooters operatives—Dave, Decker, and Nash—were watching Hannah intently across the conference table.
“He hasn’t been back here?” Hannah asked. “At all? Not since…”
“Not since Angelina died,” Decker—the quiet one—told her. He’d been the team leader on the op in which she’d been killed—Hannah knew that. She couldn’t imagine living with the mountains of guilt and responsibility he must’ve felt. Sure, it wasn’t really his fault. And yes, the man who’d murdered Angelina had been stopped. The son of a bitch had been shot when he’d attempted to kill again. Decker had been part of the team who’d taken him down, keeping him from harming anyone else, making him pay for what he’d done.