THE FIELD office personnel arrived like a band of brothers, six of them flanking the outer perimeter of the house, while two went inside. No one was taking any chances with the vice president’s safety or with Bailey’s welfare. Aidan was glad, though he felt like he was caught up in an espionage movie. He wished he could take pictures of the agents, dressed in severe dark suits, earpieces, serious expressions. He’d portray them as modern warriors, closing ranks to protect their own. Instead, as they came inside, he sat in the living room and watched the action unfurl. Heading the pack was an older guy, nearing fifty, but in top shape. There was something different about him. Besides his air of authority, he wore a suit which seemed better cut and made of more expensive fabric than that of the other agents. Across the room, Dylan, who’d come by earlier, was studying the guy, too.
Mitch and C.J. greeted the two new agents. The older one held out his hand. “Mitch, nice to see you again.”
They shook. “You, too, but not under these circumstances.”
“Goes without saying.” Then the agent turned to C.J. Something flared in his eyes and his facial expression softened. “Caterina, hello.”
Caterina? What the hell?
C.J. nodded. She let the guy take her hand. He didn’t shake it, but held it between two of his, much as C.J. had done with Aidan when they thought Clay might be dead. From this jerk, it was a come-on. She kept her face blank. Too blank. “David. It’s been a long time.”
David. As in David Anderson? The schmuck who ran her out of town? Aidan had the urge to jump off the couch and punch his lights out.
Anderson straightened and stepped back with effort, as if he was forcing himself away from her; he turned to Mitch. “Where’s the vice president?”
“Right here.” Clay was at the bottom of the staircase, with Bailey in tow.
When the threat came in, Aidan had gone up and told them about it. Bailey had taken the news on the chin, but Aidan could tell she was upset; a lot had happened to her world lately. Clay had been furious at yet another thing to deal with concerning his family.
Anderson approached Clay. “Special Agent David Anderson, sir.”
Clay shook his head. “Yes, the hotshot agent of Manhattan. I understand you helped identify the Brooklyn nut who was after my predecessor.”
“I did. With the help of my team.” He glanced to C.J. “Agent Ludzecky was on it at the time and was invaluable in tracking down the accent of the perpetrator.”
“That’s our girl.” The comment was said with such affection, it would be hard to interpret it as sexist.
The other agents, Dylan and Aidan were introduced.
Clay thanked the field office people for coming, then said, “Let’s sit down.”
Aidan joined Dylan at the entryway to the kitchen. There was limited seating in the living room and the powwow about to take place was important. Aidan was an onlooker to the action, but C.J. was central to it. He had a flash that this was how it would be from now on—he’d always be on the outside of her life.
Anderson took charge. “I have a copy of the audiotape we received. The original’s been sent to Headquarters Global Threat Analysis Center.”
C.J. said to Bailey, “It’s where every threat on our protectees is analyzed.”
“Didn’t you work there before you came to us?” Bailey asked.
“Yes, when I left New York.” She glanced at Anderson. “And before I got on the VPPD.”
Anderson took over the explanation. “In addition to the voice-analysis equipment, which is more sophisticated than ours in New York, they do extensive forensic analysis.”
“Like CSI without the commercials,” Mitch put in.
Dylan said, “I read somewhere that most written threats are tracked down and you find the person.”
“That’s true, through FISH.”
Before Anderson could explain the acronym, his brother did. “Forensic Information System for Handwriting analysis.”
Aidan poked Dylan in the ribs. “Stop showing off.”
Anderson gave C.J. a sideways glance and she smiled back. Aidan didn’t understand the exchange. He wondered what other freakin’ subtext was going on between them that he didn’t get.
“In any case,” Anderson continued, “voice threats are harder to track, though we do have the database for them. We enter the tapes to see if we can get a match to past threats made on any protectees. Voice print, accent, those kinds of things are studied.”
Bailey nodded. “I want to hear the tape.”
“Are you sure?” Clay asked. “It’ll be chilling to hear aloud. Very different from being told what’s in it.”
Frowning, Bailey raised her brows. “And you know that how?”
A guilty look on Clay’s face answered the question.
“You’ve received threats you didn’t tell me about, haven’t you?”
He said nothing.
“Damn it, Clay. We agreed from the outset not to keep things from each other.”
“Let’s not fight now, sweetheart. Just know hearing the threat is even more upsetting than being told about it.”
She raised her chin.
Clay said to Anderson, “Go ahead.”
Clearly the voice was disguised. Tinny. Lots of background noise. It only lasted a few seconds. “The vice president didn’t die, but his wife will. Just like the agent you saw on TV.”
When Anderson switched the recording off, he turned to C.J. “What do you think?”
“The voice analysts will know better when they filter out the background and get rid of the muffling device, but my guess is it’s an Asian accent.”
“How do you know that?” Dylan asked.
Again, Anderson answered. “She majored in linguistics in college. Worked at the UN. We were lucky to get her in the service.” The pride and affection in his voice made Aidan’s fists curl. Who the hell was he to be proud of her?
“You know what this means?” Anderson asked Clay.
“Yes.” He turned to Bailey and said, “The threat to you and the attempted kidnapping of Rory could be related to the terrorists in Zanganesia, which is an Asian country.”
o0o
WHEN THE MEETING ended, David stood and shook hands with Clay. Then he crossed to C.J. “I’d like a word with you, Agent Ludzecky, if I could.”
“Yes, of course.”
David faced his team. “Those of you not on duty now should go home and get some sleep.” Several field agents were assigned to the house full-time until the Wainwrights went back to Washington.
C.J. glanced at Aidan. His mouth was set in stern lines of displeasure. She hated the thought that David being here, working with her, might hurt him.
David touched her arm. “Where would be good?”
“Outside.”
“Lead the way.”
They excused themselves from the others. She saw Dylan say something to Aidan. Aidan shook his head but didn’t take his eyes off her as she walked out with David.
When they reached the picnic table, he sat on the surface. C.J. remembered another table, in the park, where Aidan had kissed her. Banishing the memory, she studied her former boss and the man who had changed her life, feeling oddly detached. He was handsome, with that George Clooney thing going for him, but he seemed older, and more restless than when she worked with him.
“So,” David said with a flirty smile. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Mad?” she asked. “No, I guess not.”
“The few times I’ve seen you since you left New York you seemed angry.” He arched a brow. “Though I don’t know why; you got the brass ring. The VPPD is a step up from our field office.”
She angled her head at him. “Well, I suppose you could see it that way. Still, I got transferred against my will, out of a job I loved because of your feelings for me. My brother said I should have brought you up on sexual harassment charges.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You know very well why. You knew what I’d do when you told me the truth about why you wanted me out of there.”
His forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Damn it, David. I was young and inexperienced as an agent. You were the boss of the office, and well liked, though now I’m wondering why. I was intimated when you made your big confession.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She didn’t believe him for a second. “Then try this one. I wondered if I’d done something wrong to bring about this attraction. We were close. We spent a lot of time together. And I respected you then. You were my mentor, my idol and my friend, or so I thought.” She shook her head, unable to believe how naïve she’d been. “In the end, I knew we could never go back to that, and I could never be comfortable in that office with you after what you’d said. So I left.”
“I was trying to be honest. To preclude something happening between us.”
“So was I. I cared about your wife and your girls—who reminded me of my sisters—so I left without making a fuss.”
The muscles in his jaw tensed.
She could still see pretty Joan Anderson, slim, dark-haired, at her husband’s side. The perfect wife. And his three lovely girls. “How are they, by the way?”
Leaning back, bracing his arms on the tabletop, David looked up at the sky. “Joan had an affair.”
Guess she wasn’t perfect. “I see.”
“It’s not that uncommon for agents’ wives to cheat.” His voice was neutral, as if he was describing a case. “The travel, the long hours, the reticence in talking about our work. You know all that.”
“She adored you.”
“She complained I was distant. That the service took precedence over her and the girls. I got more distant when you left.”
“What happened with her?”
“She met a schoolteacher at a PTA event. Had a fling, she said.”
“Are you still together?”
“Yes. I left for a while. But the girls were young, so we reconciled. We’re struggling again. I’m not sure life can ever be the same after infidelity.” He shook his head. “Funny, isn’t it? I gave up an affair with you for Joan and she had an affair because I became morose and moody. About you.”
C.J. crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you mean you gave up an affair with me?”
His look was very male. “You know what I mean.”
“David, I would never have had an affair with you.”
“You cared about me.”
“Of course I did. But not that way. In any case, I’d never steal another woman’s husband.”
“What about now?”
“You’re still married.”
“If I wasn’t?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop it. We already played this out once. I don’t need an encore.”
Lithe and graceful, he came off the table toward her. She stepped back but he caught her by the arms. His grip was strong and possessive. He drew her close, very close, so her breasts brushed his chest. “I’ve missed you.” He tucked back a strand of her hair. “For years, I’ve dreamed about you. Watched your career progress from afar. Been ludicrously proud of you. Fuck it, Caterina, I made a mistake staying with Joan. And the twins are in college now. We could be together.” He cleared his throat. “I’m taking a new job in Washington.”
“So I heard.”
His hands ran up and down her arms, shoulder to elbow. “Despite what you said, I don’t believe the only things you felt for me were respect and admiration. I don’t believe all I was to you was a mentor.”
She pushed on his chest and stepped back. “It’s true. Under no circumstances can we be together. I don’t love you.”
“Who is it?”
“What?”
“Your emphasis was on you. Who do you love?”
“No one. And even if I did, it’s none of your business.”
He practically snarled. “You and Calloway are pretty chummy.”
“Stop it.”
She started to turn away but he grabbed her again and forced her to face him. So she said, “Not everyone is as weak as you and gets involved on the job, David.”
As soon as she said the words aloud, she winced. She’d gotten involved, deeply, on this job.
“You never said you thought I was weak before.”
She hadn’t. What was the point? She was getting transferred no matter what. Because she felt like a hypocrite, she said, “I don’t want to hurt you now and I didn’t want to hurt you then. But a relationship between us is not going to happen.” She felt her heart speed up at being put in this position. “I’ll try to limit our contact in D.C. and I hope you’ll do the same.”
“All right. I’ve done enough to you already. I apologize for bringing it up again. I guess I misunderstood everything.”
“Apology accepted. And for the record, I’m not sure I’d handle the situation you put me in the same way today as I did five years ago.” This time, she strode away.
When she reached the back door to the house, something made her look up. She saw Aidan in the window of the spare room. Which had a clear view of the backyard.
She wondered how much he’d seen.
o0o
AIDAN HAD SEEN enough in Bailey’s backyard to drive him to the pub late that night. As some current pop rock played from the jukebox, he sat at the bar, staring down at his beer. Bridget had been called in to cover for him during the hostage crisis so he could be with Bailey, but when Clay came home, Aidan had left the town house. Freed from responsibility, he was downing a Molson. And shots of tequila. The mixture almost numbed him, almost blocked the images of C.J. and David Anderson, the fucking asshole who cost her her job in New York, together in Bailey’s yard.
And how she let him put his hands on her.
From the other side of the bar, Patrick walked toward him. He wiped the counter in front of Aidan. “Cryin’ in your beer?” He glanced at the shot glass. “Hard stuff?”
“Maybe.” Aidan gulped back the shot and slapped down the empty glass. “I’ll have another.”
“Suit yourself.” Patrick poured a second shot then braced his hands on the bar. “Since Pa’s heart attack you been acting like a different person. I’m thinkin’ it’s more than stuff with C.J. that we already talked about. What’s going on, kid?”
“You got all night?” Aidan asked. He downed the second shot.
Patrick stared at him. “I could, if you needed it.”
Aidan was tired of withholding what had happened with his father, with C.J., from his brothers. So he said to Patrick, “I been keeping stuff from you.”
His gaze narrowed. “Wanna tell me now?”
“I guess.” Aidan shrugged. “I caused Pa’s heart attack.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Aidan described the fight he had with Pa over Aidan wanting to leave the pub and how that caused the heart attack, at least in part. Nothing anybody said had convinced him he hadn’t contributed to it.
When he finished, Pat just shook his head. “Bullshit. Pa had clogged arteries. That caused his heart attack.” He snorted. “Besides, if he was going to have heart failure over a fight with one of his sons, he’d have been dead a long time ago from the rows we get into.”
Aidan hadn’t thought of that. Pa and Patrick often went head to head. It had started with Moira, and now they fought over what brand of beer to order. “Maybe. I forgot about that.”
Pat concentrated on his task of washing glasses. After a while, he asked, “You really want to do this photography?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“For what it’s worth, I say go for it. We’ll survive at the pub. Liam could quit his part-time job and earn enough here to live on.”
“Maybe.”
Another silence. “Tell me what’s goin’ on with C.J. You guys were really weird around each other the whole time we waited to hear about Clay.”
Running his finger around the rim of the beer glass, Aidan pictured C.J. as she’d been at the lake. Then he saw Anderson towering over her. What had he said to her? “I was with her when the hostage situation happened.”
Pat stopped washing. “I suspected as much. And?”
“On Sunday, she said she wouldn’t see me anymore.”
“I knew she said it wasn’t a go before. But the weekend didn’t change anything?”
“No. She was all weepy about it, though.”
“How about you?”
“I feel like shit.”
“This sounds serious.”
“For me, very. For her, who knows? I saw her playing nice with her old boyfriend before I came over here.” He pounded his fist on the bar. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Right from the beginning, she said I couldn’t handle her job. I thought I could so I went after her, like you guys said I should. And after what happened between us at the lake, I tried to argue her out of ditching me. But now...I guess she’s right. This thing with Jenkins...”
“He got killed, Aidan.” Pat’s dark eyes flared with hot emotion. “Maybe the guys and me were wrong to push you together. How could a man watch his wife put herself in a situation like that?”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine it.”
“Me, either.”
“Hell, Paddy. You can’t handle Brie’s job and she just runs a business.”
His brother stared over Aidan’s shoulder. “There’s more to our problems than what I been tellin’ you. But we’re working on things.” He wiped the bar. “What are you gonna do now?”
“Nothing. There’s no way to get around the facts.” He held up the shot glass. “Except with this maybe. I’ll have another shot of the sweet lady.”
“No, you won’t.” Pat undid the towel around his waist. “Let’s close up. Go get some breakfast. Food always makes you feel better than that crap.”
Aidan watched Pat. Maybe going with his brother would keep him from thinking about Caterina at the lake, Caterina in his arms.
And Caterina with David “Hotshot” Anderson.