Too Far Gone Page 23

  Disbelief morphed into incredulity, followed by realization and outrage. He had lied to her! About everything.

  He wasn’t a runaway teen—in hindsight it was obvious. She doubted he was eighteen years old, and without her mother’s journal, he probably hadn’t known a daisy from a jonquil!

  But then, who was he? Uncertainty kept her paralyzed several minutes longer. She had given herself to him in trust, believing his interest in her stemmed from a mutual attraction and friendship, when all along he had been using her as a pawn to gain access to her father’s house, to her father’s files.

  Outrage overcame fear. She surged to her feet, startling him into dropping the penlight. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded in a low, quavering voice.

  “Skyler!” he exclaimed, putting the file away hastily. “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” she retorted, stalking toward him. “I don’t think that’s really the question, do you, Drake? Or is that even your name?” she demanded, furious with him. “How dare you use me to get to my father!” she accused, stopping before him with her fists clenched.

  “Shhh!” he hushed her, bending to snatch up the penlight, switching it off. “Skyler, please.” He sounded agitated. “We can’t be caught. Come up to my room, and I’ll explain.”

  “Explain what? That my father’s a crook? That you used me to get to him—for what reasons I have yet to figure out and probably don’t even want to know?” Her voice was rising to a louder pitch with every word.

  She gave a startled gasp as he took a sudden step forward, caught the back of her head in one hand, and silenced her by kissing her soundly.

  “That’s an apology,” he explained gruffly when he finally raised his head. “I’ve wanted to tell you the truth for as long as I’ve known you,” he added convincingly. “I just didn’t know whether family loyalty would force you to give me away.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, befuddled. His voice, his scent, the taste of his kiss were all so familiar, and yet he was still a stranger.

  “I’m an undercover agent with the FBI,” he murmured in her ear. “Your father’s been under investigation for years.”

  She shook her head in confusion, fright, and, oddly, relief. “Then you’re not eighteen,” she determined, clutching his strong arms with newfound respect. “You’re an FBI agent?” she whispered cautiously.

  “Undercover,” he added, his white teeth flashing in the dark.

  “Prove it,” she retorted. She’d had the wool pulled over her eyes for too long to ever trust again so easily.

  With a sigh, Drake reached into the backpack sitting at his feet. Withdrawing a slim black phone, he pushed a series of numbers, then held it to her ear. “You have two saved messages. Message one: ‘Drake, it looks like we have an in-house security breach,’ ” growled a man’s voice. ‘Somehow, someone in the organization now knows what you’re up to, and they’ve asked for a personal favor. Supposedly our suspect is responsible for the abduction of three boys. They want you to keep your ear to the ground. I’ll expect your call tonight as usual.’ ”

  “Your father?” Skyler asked, daunted by the commanding voice on the other end as Drake put the phone away.

  “Yeah,” he admitted with a helpless shrug. “I guess that part about running away from him was just a fantasy.”

  Skyler’s head spun. So much had happened so quickly. First she’d learned that Carl was her half brother and that her father had kidnapped three boys, and now she learned Drake was with the FBI. Life as she’d known it would never be the same. She could feel the chains of obligation that shackled her to her father falling away. “Drake,” she breathed, certain he could hear her heart pounding with the promise of freedom. “You don’t need to search my father’s files anymore.” She gripped his arms to keep the room from spinning. “My mother wrote everything down in journals. Everything. If I give them to you, will you protect me?”

  Skyler’s confession cast a net of disquiet over Drake’s excitement. “How many journals?” he asked, relieved that she’d apparently forgiven him for his deceit. “What’s in them?”

  “There are ten altogether, going from 1988 to 1998, when my mother’s memory started to fade. There are names, events, places. Everything he did both publicly and privately. You won’t believe the details, Drake. Mogilevich—does that name sound familiar?”

  The Russian embezzler. He’d been sought by the FBI for years. “Yes,” he admitted hoarsely.

  “My father had him over as a guest. He offered him use of his shipping port.”

  “Skyler,” Drake grated, pulling her into his embrace and holding her firmly, now willing her to be silent. Stark sorrow compressed his heart, overshadowing the excitement of stumbling into such a boon. This was the big break the FBI needed to bring Owen Dulay to heel. Only, the price Skyler would have to pay to submit such evidence was too high.

  She was still explaining. “My pendant. It opens a box at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Father Joseph has been protecting it all this time.”

  “Skyler, listen,” he whispered, casting a nervous glance at the door. He could hear the servants moving about in other parts of the house. “If you give me those journals, you have to start your life over again under witness protection.”

  Her sudden stillness told him she hadn’t realized what her contribution would cost. “But you could protect me,” she asserted, her eyes shining with faith visible even in the darkness. “Me and my mother.”

  Beyond her words, he heard a message of hope for a future between them, and his heart contracted with real regret. “No, love,” he whispered, hearing her gasp at his endearment. “Regardless of how I might try, I couldn’t keep you safe. You and your mother would go to a new location, undisclosed even to me. You’d start your life over again.”

  “Then I would never see you again,” she realized with a catch in her voice.

  “Not for a long time,” he agreed. “It’ll take months before your father is convicted—years, probably, for your testimony to be forgotten. Even then, your father and his associates will never forget. You’ll be viewed as a traitor to all Centurions, and for that, they’ll try to make an example of you by killing you and your mother.”

  Skyler shuddered in his arms. With a frightened sob, she fell against his chest. Drake held her firmly, letting her make her own decision. The feelings that had sprouted so naturally between them should not be a determining factor, and yet he couldn’t help but wish for what could never be.

  “I have to do it,” she whispered, sounding terrified but equally resolved. She lifted her head to explain her reasons. “I can’t let him get away with the things he’s done. I have to stop being a coward and do this for myself—and for my mother.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked, his eyes burning with love and admiration.

  Paper rustled in her hand as she drew a letter from her pocket. “About that kidnapping rumor you were told to listen for”—she thrust an envelope into his hands—“this letter proves Carl Stuart is my father’s heir. Those boys are his grandchildren. I’m almost certain he took them.”

  Toward the crack of dawn, Ophelia’s cell phone rang. Ellie bolted upright next to her, jarring Ophelia awake when she would’ve just let the phone keep ringing.

  “It’s my cell,” Ophelia croaked, groping for it as she cracked an eye to read the clock—4:30 a.m. Only Vinny and his SEAL buddies were awake at this ungodly hour. “What?” she whimpered, answering his call.

  “Why didn’t you return my call?” Vinny demanded in lieu of a greeting.

  “Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you,” she mumbled.

  “Well, did you get my message?”

  “No, what message?”

  “Sean’s alive,” he announced, sounding wide awake and breathing hard as he hurried somewhere. “Solomon and I are about to take a hop to Hunter Army Airfield. Then we’re going to pick up Sean. He wants to know if you found Ellie.”
>
  “Of course I found her,” Ophelia retorted, rubbing grit from her eye.

  “You did? Awesome. Keep her safe till we get there. Where are you?”

  “It’s called the East Bay Inn on East Bay Street,” Lia mumbled.

  “Terrific. We’ll be there around ten hundred or so.”

  “ ’Kay.”

  “Go back to sleep, beautiful.”

  “Fly safe,” she murmured, ending the call. Her heavy head sank back into the pillow.

  “What’d he say?” came Ellie’s anxious whisper.

  It took Lia a moment to remember. “Oh, he said Sean’s alive. He and Solomon are going to get him now.”

  “He’s alive!” Ellie cried. “Oh, thank you, Lord!”

  Lia suffered an effusive hug that she was too tired to reciprocate.

  “Is he hurt? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t think so. Vinny didn’t say.”

  Ophelia thought she heard Ellie shed some quiet tears. Poor thing, if she stayed with Sean—which would make her Sean’s first serious girlfriend—she’d ride this same emotional roller coaster over and over again.

  A SEAL was never safe until he was home in his woman’s arms.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “How did you end up way the hell out here?” Solomon groused, leaning out of the driver’s window of a black sedan, no doubt borrowed from the motor pool at Hunter Army Airfield.

  “I swam,” Sean retorted, standing up on the stoop where he’d sat waiting. Wearing a straw hat that covered his bandaged head and complemented the tropical shirt, he looked like a tourist on vacation, which was Maggie’s idea.

  He turned to her now, extending a hand of gratitude. “Thank you again,” he repeated, eager to get going. At her wistful smile, he pulled her into a swift embrace.

  “Good luck,” she called as he leapt off the stoop. “I’ll be watching the news. Don’t disappoint me,” she warned as he loped across the wet sand in her front yard. The storm had moved northward, leaving behind a beach setting as pristine as if it had been power washed.

  “Sit up front,” Vinny offered, giving up his seat to move to the back.

  “Thanks,” said Sean, clapping him on the back. “Hey,” he said to Solomon as he ducked into the passenger seat. “Thanks for coming to save my ass.” He sent Maggie a final wave.

  “No problem.” Morning sunlight glanced off the car’s hood as Solomon backed them briskly into the street and tore off in the direction of town. He cast Sean a keen sidelong look. “Aside from the clothes, you look pretty good,” he observed.

  Sean showed him the bandage under his hat. “Bullet came this close,” he admitted matter-of-factly. He glanced over the seat at Vinny. “What’s up?”

  “My fiancée is already down here covering the kidnapping,” Vinny said quickly.

  “Shit,” Sean retorted irritably. “I told you to tell her to back off.”

  “I did, okay?” Vinny defended himself. “But she’s like a pit bull when it comes to getting to the truth. Plus, she’s dying to prove these Centurions kidnapped the kids.”

  Sean simmered for a moment. “Maybe we can use the media to our advantage,” he relented.

  “Aye,” said Solomon with an approving nod.

  “You want to hear some good news?” Vinny asked.

  “Yes.” There’d been a real scarcity of good news lately.

  “Lia found Ellie,” Vinny added. “They’re both staying at the East Bay Inn. I told her we’d meet them at ten o’clock.”

  Sean hadn’t been able to sleep a wink last night, worrying that the Centurions had done her in. Without warning, he lunged over the backseat and kissed Vinny soundly on the lips. “Thank you!” he exclaimed.

  “Ugh!” Vinny protested, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Jesus, Harley. You know I hate it when you do that.”

  Solomon chuckled.

  Sean sat back and drew a deep, cleansing breath. The prospect of seeing Ellie again, alive and kicking, made him want to stick his head out the window and release a rebel yell. He’d never come so close to dying for a woman. He’d never spent so much time worrying about a woman, period.

  That had to be why his heart was pumping with exultation. It wasn’t because he was falling in love. Hell, no. Not with a woman who’d sooner take him down a peg than put him on a pedestal. How crazy would he have to be to take her on for any time at all . . . or even forever?

  Maggie’s cell phone, which she’d insisted on giving him, gave a sudden ring. Sean snatched it up, recognizing Reno’s number. “Ellie’s been found,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Thank God,” said Reno. “Where is she?”

  “Staying with Vinny’s fiancée, who wants to do some kind of 60 Minutes exposé on the Centurions.”

  “I’m glad she’s safe,” Reno replied, sounding awfully grim. “Sean, I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”

  How could anything be worse than what Reno had shared with him yesterday? “What is it?”

  “It’s about your alibi, Tiffany, and the reason she didn’t return Butler’s call.”

  His stomach cramped with dread. “Go ahead.”

  “She was shot in the head three nights ago and left for dead.”

  A cold spot formed on Sean’s scalp under the straw hat. Left for dead. “Is she still alive, then?” he asked, stunned and shocked.

  “Barely. She’s in a coma,” Reno answered. “In ICU. Her father wants to talk to you.”

  Sean felt sick to his stomach. He had to open the window to catch a breath of balmy air and clear his head. Solomon was speeding them past the same marshy area where the cops had shot him and foisted him off on the fishermen.

  “I’ll call him as soon as I have some answers,” he promised hoarsely. Bathed in a clammy sweat, he couldn’t get his brain to think. “I need to call Hannah,” he decided. “Butler’s the only person who had Tiffany’s contact information,” he added irately. “Now, fucking tell me he’s not working for the Centurions.”

  “Don’t be so hasty, Sean. You’d be leveling some serious charges at the man. I’ll try to find out who he shared that information with.”

  “How long will you be down here? You want to meet up?”

  “Actually, I need to get home this afternoon. My oldest is giving a piano recital.”

  More than anything, Sean admired how Reno put his kids first, but this was pretty damn crucial.

  “I can fly back down tomorrow or any day after that if you need me,” Reno promised. “Frequent-flyer miles,” he added. “In the meantime, you know it’s my sworn duty to tell you to turn yourself in to the authorities, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, Reno. I get you. I’ll be careful.” Careful plotting to get every last Centurion who’d made Ellie, her boys, and now Tiffany suffer. Sean had no intention of remaining in hiding while the Centurions celebrated their victory over him.

  With a click, Reno was gone.

  Still swimming in shock, Sean silently dialed Hannah’s number. He envisioned Tiffany in ICU with tubes coming out of her, attached to life support. “Damn it!” he snarled as the car got quiet enough to make the ringing audible to all.

  “Sean, I’m glad you called,” Hannah greeted him.

  “Yeah, well, you won’t be,” he retorted, telling her what had happened to his only alibi. “Butler was the only person I gave her contact information to. He tried to fucking kill her so he could frame me.”

  “I understand that you’re upset,” Hannah said quietly. “I promise I’m looking into that assertion. Butler doesn’t work alone, Sean. He reports to two division chiefs, forensics and investigations. Listen, I wanted you to know that I contacted the undercover division,” she added, “and you’re right. Drake Donovan is currently working in Dulay’s household. His father, who is the special agent-in-charge of the Undercover Division, has promised to alert him to the alleged kidnappings. He wanted you to know that the tracer was put on Dulay’s car two days ago. Apparently he’s been visiting t
he Centurion’s home for boys.”

  Sean’s spirits rallied from despair. “Are you serious? The Centurions run a home for boys?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I bet that’s where Ellie’s boys are,” Sean exclaimed, feeling immeasurably better.

  “I’m submitting a request for a search warrant,” Hannah answered. “It’ll take at least twenty-four hours for me to hear back on that. In the meantime, I’m flying down to Savannah to put together a SWAT team.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t let the local police know that,” Sean begged. “I sure as hell don’t want Dulay moving those boys if that’s where they are.”

  “I realize that,” Hannah drawled.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job.”

  “And I’m not going to try telling you how to do yours,” Hannah answered cryptically.

  She seemed to be saying that if the SEALs intended to scope out the boys’ home, that was their prerogative. “Yes, ma’am,” Sean agreed.

  “Keep in touch, Sean, and I’ll do likewise.”

  Ending the call, Sean rubbed his gritty eyelids and spared his silent companions a sober look. Shit, he’d never meant for that to happen to Tiffany.

  And, holy God, if it’d happened to Ellie, there was no telling what he might do. He turned his head in time to see a sign that read savannah 9 miles. “Can’t this cheap piece of shit motor-pool car go any faster?” he roared.

  Solomon gunned the motor, bouncing Sean’s neck off the headrest and pushing the hat down over his ears.

  “Look what Skyler just gave me!” Ophelia cried as she returned from the lobby. The announcement prompted Ellie to turn off the hair iron at the antique vanity. Her unruly hair wasn’t going to get any straighter today. She barely recognized herself already in Ophelia’s turquoise blouse and matching jacquard skirt.

  Crossing the Victorian carpet, Ophelia waved papers in front of her that looked like photocopies of a letter. “Recognize the return address?” she asked.

  Ellie frowned down at the photocopy of the front of an envelope. “Darlene Stuart,” she exclaimed, recognizing the name and the address. “That was Carl’s mama. She did know Owen Dulay!” she gasped, noting who the letter was sent to.