Authors: Kimberly,Kayla Woodhouse
Jenna leaned forward. “Are you sure you really want it?”
“Of course! That’s why I asked you to come over.” Ridiculous. Why wouldn’t she want their advice? She crossed her arms around her middle.
“Anesia.” Cole’s steady voice calmed her a tad. “We’ve been listening to you rant for thirty minutes now—”
“I am
not
ranting!”
Cole laughed. “Yeah. You are.”
She huffed. Could feel the knots tightening in her stomach.
“Cool it and sit down.”
At Jenna’s raised voice, Anesia stilled. Jenna never raised her voice to Anesia unless she wasn’t listening. Which she hadn’t been.
She sat down.
Cole leaned toward her. “Well, I think you’ve already figured out that this Sean guy was telling the truth. Sounds like Agent Philips didn’t have any problems with him. When will the official background check come in?”
“In a day or two.”
“Good. I’m glad he’s handling it. After everything that happened with Marc and AMI, I agree you need to be careful. The FBI has promised to help us, but if you’re going to be paranoid, that’s going a bit overboard.”
She stood up and planted her hands on her hips. “Cole Maddox, you think I’m paranoid?”
“No. We completely understand”—Jenna stood next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, patting her in a no-we-don’t-think-you’re-crazy-please-calm-down-before-we-get-the-straight-jacket kind of way—“but I do think there’s something you’re not telling us.”
“Yeah, she’s paranoid.” Cole ducked to avoid the pillow Anesia chucked at him.
Jenna shot a look at her husband. “I’m gonna have to separate you two.” Her best friend turned back to stare into her eyes. “Spill it. What’s really going through that head of yours?”
The leather couch squeaked around her as Anesia settled back into it. “God and I had been wrestling over a matter and then all this blew up in my face.” She fiddled with the ivory carvings on the coffee table.
“Now we’re getting to the heart of things.” Jenna sat beside her.
“I need someone here. Someone strong and trustworthy. Someone to live on the property. I still can’t believe that Zoya witnessed a murder. That she was shot at. But no matter how hard it is, I have to admit that I
need
someone here. Does that make sense?” Her fidgeting hands moved to the wooden
udzih
carved by her great-grandfather.
Jenna nodded. Cole stared.
“Ugh!” She threw another pillow at Cole. “You just don’t get it. Men!”
Jenna laughed, patted her knee, and removed the caribou from her.
Anesia tried again. “I’ve been strong on my own all these years. Taken care of myself. Sheltered my heart and my mind. Haven’t needed anyone. Good grief! I built this kennel with my own two hands, with my sweat and tears.” She stood again, walked around the coffee table once, and collapsed back into the sofa. “And yet”—Anesia choked back a sob—“when things got hard, when my world fell apart around me . . . I found out I wasn’t that strong after all. This has shaken everything—”
She looked away from her friends. From the weaknesses she’d denied for so long but could ignore no longer.
Weaknesses she hated. Because they meant one thing. One terrible, unavoidable thing.
She was going to have to trust someone besides herself.
RICK
January 14
Anchorage, AK
8:18 p.m.
The slight pain in his chest turned into a hot searing. Shallow breaths. One. Two. That’s it. Nice and slow.
Rick popped four Tums in his mouth, knowing full well heartburn wasn’t the problem. But he could pretend, couldn’t he? Trick his mind into believing that was his problem, instead of a heart on its last leg.
The phone call this morning with his boss had not gone well. The man was a control freak. A tyrant. As hard as they came.
If he didn’t watch it, he’d turn into the same thing.
Dark thoughts urged him to unlock and open his middle desk drawer. He did so, then pulled out the file on his niece. Time to focus on something positive.
Family.
He thumbed through the pictures, finding the one of her with her prize winning sled team. The blue eyes of the lead mutt were fixed on the young girl’s sweet face. Her lopsided grin was why he loved this picture. An exact replica of her dad’s smile.
Maybe he should go check out one of her races. That might ease some of his guilt. That was it. He’d go. Just be another fan on the trail. Another race lover.
And maybe, just maybe he’d figure out how on earth to get out of the mess he’d gotten himself into.
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLE
January 15
Fort Greely, Alaska
10:45 a.m.
“Cell phone, sir?” The young MP secured Cole’s other belongings in a locker as Cole reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dropped it into a bag and the young man sent it through the scanner.
“Clear.”
Another soldier at the security checkpoint picked up the bag and placed it in the locker with the other items.
“Here’s your badge and M9, Major Maddox. Captain Lewis will escort you down to AMI ops.”
Cole nodded and returned the young man’s salute. He followed Captain Lewis down a long corridor and into a waiting elevator. They entered the elevator and the captain slid his card into a security slot on one side while Cole slid his into one on the other side. At the green light, the doors closed. Cole and Captain Lewis placed their thumbs on the opposite touch screens.
“Verified match.” The monotone, computerized voice echoed in the tiny compartment. “Captain Richard Lewis. Major Cole Maddox. State your code for voice recognition.”
“Captain Lewis. Charlie Bravo Victor Two-Eight-Seven-Six Tango Alpha.”
“Major Maddox. Alpha Golf November Three-Niner-Seven-Four Kilo Zulu.”
The elevator began its descent. “Access granted.”
Funny, the elevator sounded as stiff as some of his superiors.
Captain Lewis turned to Cole in an at-ease position as the elevator stopped. “Sir, let me know if I can be of further assistance.”
“Thanks, Lewis. I believe that’ll be all for now.”
“Hooah, sir.”
Both men slid their cards one more time and the doors opened. Cole stepped out and shared a parting salute with the captain.
Turning on his heel, he faced the immense security entrance to AMI.
Advanced Missile Interceptor.
His long-time friend and spec ops boss, Marcus Gray, had invented the technology, prototype, and the guidance system for this defense weapon. Marcus almost let greed take over—he’d almost sold it all on the black market—when Cole found out and confronted him. Marcus came to his senses, assured Cole he’d return AMI to the U.S., but was murdered before he could.
Car bomb.
Cole had been with him, in his car, only moments before. He’d promised to take care of Marc’s family if anything happened to him. To help retrieve AMI and get it back into the correct hands.
He had no idea how that promise would change his life forever.
Marc’s wife, Jenna, and daughter, Andie, were almost killed when another operative was sent to sabotage their plane a year after Marc’s death. Their home was destroyed by a group of rogue black ops soldiers who would stop at nothing to gain this revolutionary technology. In the midst of it all, Cole found the Lord.
And fell in love with Jenna.
Now, almost nine months later, the Army had built one of the highest security facilities in the nation to house AMI, he’d married Jenna, and the military was getting ready to test their first prototypes of Marc’s invention.
“Good morning, Major.”
Cole pulled himself from his memories and focused on the general walking toward him at a brisk clip.
“Morning, General.” Cole offered a salute as they were both armed.
“After months of preparation, I believe we’re ready. Gray’s notes were intricately detailed. Let’s hope it all goes smoothly.”
“Yes, sir.”
The general walked him into the ops/mainframe area, down the steps, and up to the podium at the front. Everyone stood at attention. “Ladies and gentlemen. This is our first trial run of AMI. Several tests have taken place, but not with every facet engaged. We will begin the countdown at 1100 sharp. Please run final diagnostics.”
Feet shuffled and chairs squeaked as everyone took their places. A thrill raced through Cole. To know he had snatched this back from enemy hands, and that Marc’s dying wishes would be fulfilled, that the United States would be protected . . .
That’s what it was about.
“Major Maddox!” A wiry man ran from an upper deck waved papers in the air as he attempted to keep his feet and take three stairs at a time down to the command level.
Cole stiffened. This didn’t look good.
“General! Major Maddox!” The slight officer came to a halt in front of Cole and shoved his glasses higher on his nose. “We have a problem, sir.” He handed Cole a still-warm printout.
The general’s brow furrowed as he approached. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Cole speed-read the data on the papers. The last paragraph clenched his gut.
“Major?”
He gritted his teeth, and a muscle popped in his cheek. “General, sir. We have to abort. Apparently Gray embedded an encryption for the final sequence. It was undetectable until the sequence started. From what this report says, once all the pieces are in place, a code must be entered or the program self-destructs.”
The general spun and yelled across the gallery. “Shut it down!”
Everyone scrambled to stop the procedure before the countdown started.
“We have less than sixty seconds, people! Shut. It. Down!”
Cole examined the printout again. What had he missed? They’d spent months poring over Marc’s data. They’d followed everything to the smallest detail.
The general interrupted his thoughts. “Major. This is beyond serious. The congressional committee is convening in four weeks, and we are supposed to present our findings then. If the public finds out that millions of tax-payer dollars were used to develop this weapon, and we failed?” His mouth clamped into a hard line. He jabbed a finger in Cole’s face. “If you can’t figure this out, heads are gonna roll.”
The man clasped his hands behind his back and turned to stalk away. As he did so, he threw one more comment over his shoulder: “And son? Mine will be second. Right after yours.”
SEAN
January 15
Naltsiine Kennels
12:00 p.m.
He could hardly believe Anesia had called him back.
Sean nodded at Beth, another employee, who guided him back into Ms. Naltsiine’s—no, Anesia’s—office.
Of course, calling him back didn’t mean he got the job. It might mean she just wanted the chance to ream him in person. His family was too high profile. No way she hadn’t gotten the facts.
All of them.
No matter. He wanted a fresh start. He’d done nothing illegal. She was an intelligent woman. Certainly she’d understand why he didn’t disclose the full truth about his identity.
She summoned him to sit with a wiggle of her fingers as she finished up a phone call. Her quiet tone relaxed him and without his consent, his mind wandered, taking in all the pictures, trophies, and Alaskan culture. Carvings lined the walls. Ivory, wood, and several sets of the little Russian nesting dolls.
Anesia tapped her pen on the desk as she spoke into the phone bringing Sean back to the present. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” With a press of a button, she ended the call and turned to him. “Well, apparently”—she folded her hands in front of her—“your background is clean as a whistle.”
“I couldn’t imagine they’d find anything.” Liar. Other than his identity.
“And your record at Harvard is very impressive.” She rose from her desk. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Your background sounded a bit too unbelievable. Which brings me to my point. There’s still the question of why you want to work here. I need someone stable. Someone I can rely on. How do I know you’ll stay? Your education and experience could take you anywhere.”
Sean looked straight into her eyes. “I’ll make a commitment to you.” He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted this job.
Her brow furrowed. “But you don’t even know what the job is like. How do you know it’s a good fit for you?”
“Instinct.”
She studied him for several moments. No telling what thoughts raced through her head.
“No offense, Sean, but you’re thirty-seven years old.”
He held up a hand. “In other words, am I having a mid-life crisis because I left a vice-presidency and hiked to Alaska?” He stood, hating himself for letting his anger take hold, but he was not about to let this tiny woman insult him. “I can assure you, that is
not
the case.”
She crossed her arms and stared him down. The hand-carved clock in the corner ticked off the seconds. “All right. How about I make you a deal?”
“A deal?”
“Yes. Let me show you around, give you a feel for what the job will be. Then we can discuss everything else.”
The relief that swept him was as profound as it was surprising. He drew a steadying breath and nodded. “That’s an excellent idea. Thank you.”
“Let’s go.” She led the way out the door. “Normally, you’d need coveralls, XtraTufs boots in the summer and bunny boots in the winter—the dog yard can be disgusting—and if we come to an agreement, I’ll provide those for you. But for today, be careful, because the dogs will get excited to meet you.” Anesia looked up and down his frame. “You might get dirty.”
“I’m not afraid of a little dirt.”
“Good.” She slid on a pair of worn coveralls. They pulled on coats and boots and headed out the door.
The air was crisp and clean. Unlike anything he’d ever breathed. He could get used to this.
“If you don’t mind, we’ll walk over to the kennel. We try to keep this path plowed of snow, and that will probably be a job I will delegate to you. I hate clearing snow.”
“Not a problem.”
She led him down a long, snowy path toward the fenced-in kennel area. It didn’t take long before the dogs knew they were coming. Yips and barks started in staccato rhythm until the chorus grew and swelled on the wind. If she hadn’t already told him the numbers, he would’ve thought there were hundreds of them waiting at the kennel.