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“I want your life to be perfect, Ari.”
“Nobody’s life is perfect, Dane. You have all this money, these gorgeous houses, limited-edition books and cars. But you never knew your parents. You never once got to speak with them, tell them your hopes and dreams and let them admire your successes. Your strength. Your brilliance.”
“That was something I had no control over. This—”
“Is something you don’t have full control over, either. I chose to be with you. I knew from the beginning it was going to be dangerous. Less than ideal. But I committed to this. To you. With no blinders on, no delusions. You laid it all out for me, Dane. I am here because this is where I want to be. I’m here because you’re my husband and I love you more and more with every breath I take—and I’m not going anywhere.”
The tears spilled a bit faster. His hand covered mine, clasped around his midsection. He gave them a gentle squeeze.
I added, “When you’re here with me, I have everything I want.”
It tore me up that he was so conflicted. That such a confident, steadfast man could think for even one second that he didn’t give me everything I needed, everything I desired.
But I could also understand how someone who was accustomed to being in charge of his destiny and environment would falter when it came to having the rug ripped from underneath him. And how he’d feel he wasn’t doing his marital duties justice.
I simply said, “Finish this, Dane. Come home to us. That’s my idea of a perfect life.”
* * *
The FBI showed up mid-afternoon. Agents Daugherty and Strauss had found Candace and Ruby Talbot, handcuffed to exposed pipes in an abandoned warehouse. I didn’t need to imagine their fright—I’d suffered it once myself.
Wayne Horton, who Strauss informed us was merely a person of interest at this point, had reportedly disappeared again. According to Daugherty, our menacing ghost kept no permanent address and had numerous aliases. And likely some the FBI hadn’t even discovered yet. That didn’t bode well for tracking him down anytime soon. Yet I caught the glint in Amano’s dark-brown eyes during the discussion. He lived for shit like this—the hunt was his forte. Kyle seemed to catch the fever, because he appeared equally willing to take a stab at sniffing out Wayne.
I fretted over the whole situation—not wanting to invite more trouble into our lives.
Dane did more pacing, this time in front of the fireplace in the great room. He said, “We need to dig up more on this guy, find out if he was the one to plot Ari’s kidnapping and plant the bomb at the Lux. The snakes on the patio. All of it.”
“I highly suggest we don’t underestimate him,” Daugherty said. He was of medium height, solidly built, with a shock of red hair against a pale complexion. “But he’s not our main concern at the moment. We’ve got to wrap up our investigation on Admiral Bent. We want all five members going down—no one slips through the cracks. In fact—” His cell buzzed, interrupting him. He spared a quick glance at the screen. “I need to take this. I’ve been waiting on some information related to Bent’s whereabouts. This might be it.”
Daugherty stepped away from us. Strauss continued the conversation, though both Dane and I paid more attention to Daugherty and the way his casual strolling about the cavernous room turned agitated, along with his tone. He nodded sharply and then he swore under his breath.
Dane and I exchanged a look. My blood turned to ice in my veins.
Finally, Daugherty jammed his phone into his pocket and returned to our small group.
To me, he asked, “Would you mind turning on CNN, Mrs. Bax?”
I usually got a thrill out of Dane calling me that—any reference to my being his wife, actually. But right now nothing registered beyond the apprehension gripping me.
“Certainly.” I reached for the remote on one of the end tables and flipped on the flat screen mounted above the fireplace. I found the proper channel and quickly read the Breaking News ticker at the bottom. “Holy fuck.”
“Right,” Daugherty said. “Our search for Bent’s whereabouts is over. A couple of D.C. agents found him about an hour ago, hanging from the rafters of a vacant buil
ding in Georgetown.”
“Suicide or homicide?” Dane asked, angst seeping into his tone. I surmised he wasn’t pleased Admiral Bent might have taken the “easy” way out of all of this.
“Evidence currently points toward suicide, but of course there will be an investigation and an autopsy.”
“It’s not really his style,” Dane offered. “He was an admiral, after all. Tough as nails.”
“When the heat’s on…,” Strauss merely said. “Desperate times and all that—people do what they have to. He wouldn’t have fared well in prison. Clearly knew it.”
“What does this mean?” Kyle asked. “Related to the indictments?”
Daugherty said, “My guess is the trials are going to be moved up—they’ll be starting soon. Which means you need to come with us, Dane. We’ll have two more agents stake out this property.”
Amano scowled. I knew what he was thinking—not on my turf. But he said nothing.
