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“How does he pay you?” Jack asked.
“Electronic transfer.”
“Good boy. You’re finally starting to learn.” Jack tapped his cheek a couple more times as the guy started to drift off. “You can pass out in a minute. Tell me what information you were supposed to get from me.”
“We were supposed to find out about the package some bloke sent to the place you’re living.”
Chills ran down Jack’s spine. Whoever was behind the Passover Project had a longer reach than he’d thought. “And what if I didn’t tell you?”
“Then we were supposed to knock you out and take you with us. If we couldn’t get the information out of you, then Kimball thought he could.”
“I bet he did.” Jack stood up. A gray, hazy light was starting to peek over the city, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before traffic started to pick up.
“Did he want to know only about me, or did he mention other names?”
“He said something about an Edgar Harris, but you were our priority.”
“What’s your name?”
“Brian Kirby.”
“Today’s your lucky day, Kirby. Go back to Mr. Kimball and tell him that if he wants to tangle with me, then he needs to have the guts to do it himself. Tell him I’ll be waiting for him.”
Jack stepped over the dead guy and headed out of the alley. One of his damned ribs was cracked, and he’d need stitches in his arm, but the important thing was he had information to give to Ethan to put in that amazing computer of his. Brian Kirby had just given him part of the pieces to the puzzle.
The good news was they were making someone out there really nervous. People who were nervous made big mistakes. And people who made big mistakes ended up dead.
ChapterThirteen
Gabe waited until the water turned off and Grace was out of sight before going to take his own shower. Her words pounded through him over and over again until all he could hear was the accusing tone of her voice in his mind.
Had he been too involved in agency work to pay attention to what was happening with his family? He knew he’d started to shut down that last year of their marriage. Living a double life had taken its toll on him. Life among terrorists and human beings of the lowest life form was a cruel and terrible existence, and the only bright spot in his life had been Grace and Maddie. And he hadn’t wanted them to be touched by the other life he was having to live.
Despite it all, he and Grace had somehow made their marriage work. Or at least he thought they had. When one of them was away on assignment, the other was always at home with Maddie. But his time with Tussad, and what the CIA wanted Gabe to do within Sayad’s organization, had made him pull away from the goodness that waited for him at home. He had a duty to his country. That had been drilled into him from an early age, and he was glad to do it. Proud to do it. But he’d had a duty to Grace as well—the most basic being to love, honor, and cherish. Somewhere along the way he’d failed miserably.
And when Maddie had died and Grace had left, he’d closed in on himself. Grace spoke the truth when she blamed him. He blamed himself. If he hadn’t been working with Tussad, then Maddie would still be alive. He couldn’t even blame the CIA for giving him the job—he’d been eager to take it, eager to see the terrorist finally brought to justice.
But things had gone terribly wrong, and he and Grace had each wallowed in their own fear and anguish and guilt until something else formed—something unhealthy and consuming. It had obviously affected Grace differently than it had affected him, and he needed to do whatever it took to fix it. She was hurting. And she wasn’t healthy. If she wanted him out of her life after she was better, then so be it. But he owed it to her to help with the healing. He owed it to both of them because he needed to heal too.
He ducked his head under the hot spray and let the water soothe his sore muscles. He thought of Grace. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d found comfort and solace with another man over the last two years. Jealousy consumed him, and he closed his eyes and blanked his mind against the faceless man he saw in his imagination. He needed to get a grip.
Gabe turned off the water with an agitated flick of the wrist and wrapped a towel around his waist. He brushed his teeth but was too tired to bother with shaving. The beard would have to stay a little longer. When he opened the door into the bedroom area, he saw Grace lying on her side, facing away from him. She was burrowed under the covers, so only the flame of her hair showed against the white of the sheets.
He dropped the towel and slid in next to her, pulling her against him so their bodies spooned together. He buried his face in the scent of her hair and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Grace didn’t know how long she slept or what time it was. She just knew that when she woke, she was still in Gabe’s arms. It felt good to be there, but she didn’t deserve anything good in her life, so she moved out of his grasp as punishment to herself.
He ignored her movement and pulled her back against him, rubbing her head gently and tangling their legs together.
“Relax,” Gabe whispered in her ear. His breath was hot across her neck, and his hand splayed possessively over her stomach.
She let out a slow breath and didn’t fight against his hold. It felt too good. “I’m not strong enough for this anymore, Gabe.”
“For what?”
“For anything,” she said. “The job. You.”
