New York City
After breakfast, Alexa arrived at the Sentinels’ headquarters and went through the high-tech security measures to access the elevator that would take her to the belowground stronghold. Running on autopilot, she had her mind on Garrett as she headed for Tanya’s office and walked through the massive computer area, where analysts manned global surveillance systems.
Black walls encircled the room, and the overhead lights were purposefully dim, so computer jockeys could better see the array of colors on their monitors. And with the tight acoustics in the room, the cavernous space had the feel of a planetarium.
With Jessie out of town, Alexa would be working alone with Tanya to dig into Garrett’s whereabouts. Following the physical and electronic trail to find him would be tricky. Any search would cover sensitive information and involve tapping into restricted resources within the organization, something she’d be willing to chance if it meant finding him.
Plenty depended on her trust in Tanya’s instincts and her own when it came to Garrett. And her experiences with the man and his covert organization told her their search should be low-key until they dug up something more substantial to go on.
When she got to Tanya’s office, the door was open. She strode into the room but stopped when she saw that her friend wasn’t alone.
“I’m sorry.” Alexa stopped in the doorway and turned on her heels, heading out. “I’ll come back later.”
“No, please. Come in, Marlowe.” A deep masculine voice called after her. “I was just leaving.”
Alexa turned in surprise when she heard her name coming from the stranger. She narrowed her eyes and looked at the man. And from what she could see, Tanya appeared stressed. The analyst made eye contact and tried to communicate something Alexa couldn’t read . . . yet. But knowing Tanya, that wouldn’t take long.
“Have we met?” She stepped back into the office and closed the gap between her and a tall man dressed in an impeccable charcoal gray suit. “How do you know my name?”
“Your dossier.” He flashed a slick smile and extended his hand. “Quite impressive. My name is Donovan Cross. I’m an old friend of Garrett’s.”
Alexa took his hand and fixed her eyes on him. Few people in the world knew her real credentials. Once she’d become a member of the Sentinels, her background had been sanitized or erased. If this man had seen her dossier, he had to be part of the organization—and a high-ranking agent at that. Yet this was the first time she’d heard his name or crossed his path. And she hated being at a disadvantage.
“Funny. He’s never mentioned you. Why are you here, Mr. Cross?” She shifted her gaze toward Tanya, who only raised an eyebrow. When the analyst allowed it, her face could be an open book. And just then, she made for an easy read. Something about this man annoyed her.
“Please . . . call me Donovan. And as for why I’m here, Tanya can fill you in. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about once I leave. Good day, Marlowe.”
Cross had an arrogant swagger, and he moved with the confidence of a man who had been in the business for a long time although he didn’t look to be older than his mid-to-late thirties. In some ways, Donovan Cross reminded her of Garrett.
He had short dark hair and the same keen intense eyes that took in everything, except that Cross’s eyes were hazel, not the steel gray of Garrett’s. He was tall and athletic-looking. And although he had the same taste for expensive clothing, he had a rougher edge than Garrett. His face told her that. He’d seen a fight or two and broken his nose more than once. He wasn’t classically handsome, but any woman would notice him in a crowd.
“What was that all about?” she asked Tanya, after Cross left.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to tell you. I only got the official word an hour ago, direct from Mount Olympus. And that’s when he walked in, complete with access codes and security clearance.”
Without Garrett at the helm, they had no one above his level to trust. Tanya was the only one who had communicated with the upper echelon, but she’d never met anyone face-to-face. Alexa didn’t like what was happening. And maybe a small part of her knew what Tanya would say next.
“He’s Garrett’s replacement, Alexa. And I’m not sure it’s temporary.”
Chicago
Afternoon
Once Jessie exited the secured area at Chicago’s O’Hare airport, she looked through the sea of expectant faces of those waiting for friends and family coming off flights. She searched the crowd for tall, lanky Seth Harper, a guy who wore his hair a little long in soft dark waves and had honey brown eyes that made her weak in the knees. His boyish good looks had always captivated her.
Jessie peered at dozens of faces, looking for him. When she didn’t see him anywhere, she felt a twinge of disappointment. She couldn’t believe how eager she was to see him. And, completely unlike her, she had primped on the plane and made sure her breath smelled minty fresh, behaving like such a . . . girl.
In her haste to leave New York, she’d only given Seth her flight number and arrival time, resorting to text messages after they’d played phone tag. And she’d told him if they missed each other—which would have been easy at the massive airport—that she’d see him on the curb outside baggage claim.
With airport security these days, it was easier to make arrangements to meet on the arrival ramp although a part of her had hoped he’d surprise her by showing up inside the terminal.
She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and followed her fellow passengers toward baggage claim, but as she rounded a corner beyond security, she saw Harper leaning against a column outside a gift shop. He had a big grin on his sweet face and was holding flowers.
The boy looked damned good.
Without a word, she walked toward him. When she got close, she dropped her bag at his feet and collapsed into his arms. He smelled good—like soap on warm skin—and he felt even better. And all she thought about was how good it felt to be home.
Harper was home.
“Oh . . . you feel so good,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You have no idea.”
Her ear tickled with the sound of the soft laughter muffled in his chest.
“Yeah, I’ve missed you, too.”
He pulled back long enough to raise her chin with a finger and kiss her. Sweet tenderness heated to a slow burn. People walked by, and the noise of the airport faded. None of it stopped her from showing how much she loved him.
“I’ve got a new place. And I can’t wait for you to see it,” he said, as his kiss turned into a big hug. “I got a deal on it.”
“Yeah, I hear you’re connected.” She grinned.
When she reached down for her bag, he had already grabbed it and put his arm around her as they walked through the busy airport, with her holding the flowers he had given her. On the surface, they looked like a damned Hallmark card; but given their pasts, they were the polar opposite of ordinary.
“Tony carved out a piece of real estate for me downtown, one of his renovation projects, but the beauty of it is—I actually own it, Jess. Guess that makes me an official adult.”
Harper said that like it was a good thing.
“You’ve done it now. You’ve crossed the line, Harper. I’m not sure I can hang with someone like you. Too rich for my blood.”
Tony Salvatore was a local business developer in town, head of the Pinnacle Real Estate Corporation, a major player in the real-estate market. And he’d been a good friend to Seth and his family.
“Don’t worry. It hasn’t gone to my head. I have a roommate. He needed a place to stay for a while.” Harper stopped and reached into his jeans pocket. “I better give him a call now, let him know we’re on our way.”
Jessie stood with her mouth open as Seth hit speed dial and walked away. Harper has a roommate? He was the original lone wolf. When she had first met him, the guy lived off the grid. With his computer expertise, he’d wiped his background clean and avoided any way to trace him. And he lived out of luggage as he moved from place to place with Salvatore’s vacant high-dollar real-estate ventures.
Keeping a low profile had been Harper’s way of dealing with the strained relationship between him and his father, a former cop who suffered from a form of dementia, the aftermath of a job that had consumed him. Seth’s actually putting down roots shocked her, but the whole roommate thing was really over the top. Way too normal for Harper.
Living in downtown Chicago was expensive. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Jessie knew it made sense that Harper had someone to share the cost, even if it was only “for a while,” whatever that meant.
But it was hard to deny she had been disappointed when he told her about his roommate. She had high hopes of spending real alone time with him. And Harper was excited about her coming to Chicago, too. She’d seen it in his eyes. Before she arrived, he’d loaded up her phone with text messages, telling her about his special plans for their time together.
She chalked it up to bad Karma. A dark, surreal cloud had followed her from New York, after Sam’s phone call. And after seeing Harper, she didn’t have the heart to blurt out the real reason she’d come. Eventually, she’d have to; but before she ruined everything by leaving town again, all she wanted was to enjoy his company.
When Seth rejoined her after calling his roomie, she took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to hide her disappointment in sharing her quirky computer genius with anyone else. He had connections in Chicago, and not all of them were wealthy land barons.
Harper was a magnet for anyone strange. His innocent charm had a lot to do with it. Like her, he knew more than his fair share of fringe dwellers. And curiosity had her wondering whom he trusted enough to share his place.
Harper led a weird life. He was a guy she still thought had a borderline aptitude for crime. His sense of right and wrong was squishy and . . . adaptable.
In a word, he was “perfect” for his new employer, the Sentinels. Garrett Wheeler, the head of the clandestine organization, had recruited him personally. And as for her, Harper was like a pistachio. She couldn’t get enough of him.
Jessie narrowed her eyes. “Does your new roomie know what you do for a living?”
“Yeah, he’s got a vague notion, but he doesn’t hold it against me. Someone’s got to work.” He shrugged. “Besides, I trust him.”
Typical Harper. And she wouldn’t have him any other way.
Jessie rolled her eyes. “If you say so, Harper.”
New York City
Sentinels’ Headquarters
When Alexa Marlowe crossed the threshold of Donovan Cross’s new accommodations—Garrett’s office—he was expecting her to make an appearance. The tall, athletic blonde made a point not to make an appointment or call ahead. He knew he’d have to earn her respect, and that would be a difficult task. And if the woman had something on her mind, she would say it. Marlowe had a reputation for being anything but subtle.
Cross didn’t bother to stand. He slouched in his chair behind the desk, staring at the woman who he knew would not be intimidated.
“Good, you saved me the trouble of sending for you.” He forced a smile. “Your work is exceptional. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Marlowe.”
“I wish I could say the same. All I’ve got is your word that you have a pedigree. You’ve seen my dossier. The least you could do is return the favor and show me yours.” The striking woman stood in front of his desk with arms crossed, not bothering to sit.
“And if I say no, what then?”
“Then you would seem like a man with something to hide.”
“Well, here’s a novel concept. You could give me a chance. I assure you, I’ll grow on you.”
“Look, I just want to know what happened to Garrett. Is it true you’re replacing him?”
“Yes. I follow orders, same as you.”
“Where is he?”
Cross raised his eyebrow and didn’t answer at first. He made her wait, until he finally said, “I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” She leaned across his desk and fixed her icy blue eyes on him. “Big difference.”
Cross smirked and rocked in his chair.
“We work for a covert agency. Everything is on a need-to-know basis. Surely you understand how that works.”
“I do, but surely you understand a man like Garrett doesn’t just disappear, not without people asking questions.”
From what he’d read of her file, a woman like Alexa Marlowe wouldn’t let her questions go unanswered. She was stubborn. Her inquisitive nature and undaunted spirit made her a good agent. Cross knew he’d have to go beyond protocol to satisfy her. And what he had to do wouldn’t be easy—for him or her.
“Sit down, Alexa.” He softened his voice and gestured toward a chair. The woman begrudgingly complied and sat on the edge of her seat. Her eyes were fixed on him with a stern expression on her face. Cross took a deep breath before he said, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but . . .”
“But what?” She clenched her jaw.
“Garrett is dead. He was killed on a covert mission.” He swallowed and found it hard to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know he was your friend.”
She fought to stay in control.
“No, this can’t . . .” She shook her head, and her eyes watered. “How?”
“I don’t have the details. And there are things we may never know.”
“What are you . . . s-saying?”
“I’m saying . . . that his mission was highly classified. And we may not even recover his body. Witnesses say he was killed in an explosion, Alexa. A bad one, but we’ve confirmed his DNA at the scene. I’m sorry.”
Cross had delivered his message and waited for her reaction. With a trained operative, he’d only get a glimmer if he got any response at all. Alexa Marlowe stared at him for a long moment with only small flinches to her facial muscles. He knew she was deciding what to believe, but when she gritted her teeth and stood without another question, her move surprised him.
Without a word, she left his office.
It took all Alexa’s strength for her to walk away from Donovan Cross when she wanted to scream. Screaming might wake her up from the living nightmare her life had suddenly become.
This couldn’t be happening.
Numb, she shook her head as she closed the door behind her and headed down a hallway toward the elevators in a fog, not knowing where she was going. She wanted a stiff drink to dull her senses and slow the rush of emotions that crowded in on her, but her training and her loyalty to Garrett wouldn’t allow it.
In all the operations she’d worked with Garrett, she found it hard to picture him dead . . . until now. He was such a resourcefully strong man who had lived through some amazing missions, many of those with her by his side.
Donovan Cross was another story. She didn’t know him or trust him. Her first impressions of him weren’t good. He was cagey and had a hard time answering a direct question, the opposite of Garrett.
But the biggest ache she felt was about Garrett and the connection they shared. If he was dead, surely she would know.
Wouldn’t she?
When he was alone, Donovan Cross picked up the phone and made a call. On the second ring, his call was answered by a familiar voice. Forgoing any customary greeting, he simply said, “I gave her the news, and she just left.”
“Do you think she believed you?”
Cross leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling before he answered.
“Actually . . . I have no idea.”
“Assign someone to tail her. If she finds out what’s going on, she’ll interfere, and we can’t afford that. Not now.”
“Agreed. And already done.”
He ended the call and stared at the door Alexa had closed after leaving the room. The woman intrigued him. He suspected that she and Garrett had shared a special bond.
And he had no doubt Alexa Marlowe would be trouble.
Downtown Chicago
After Harper had parked his vehicle in underground resident parking, he showed Jessie to an elevator, and they rode up to his floor. His developer friend hadn’t missed a trick. He’d built another urban retreat in the trendy heart of downtown Chicago, with a view of Lake Michigan and close to shops, restaurants, and bars.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I made us dinner. Nothing fancy.”
“You’ve never really cooked for me.” She smiled. “You know I’m a sure thing, right?”
When Harper grinned, his face turned red. Blotches colored his cheeks as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
“I hope you like my place,” he said. “I mean, it’s not finished, you know. It’s a work in progress.”
“I think you’ve forgotten where I used to live. I’m sure your closet is bigger than my old dump. The trick is, always have low expectations, Harper. You’ll never be disappointed.”
Jessie found his shyness completely disarming. Innocent charisma came naturally for Harper. His physical beauty never ceased to amaze her, but he never seemed aware of his looks. And he never had to work at it. Harper was an original, always.
Driving from the airport, he had rambled about lots of stuff. He told her the latest on his dad. And he had funny stories about Tony Salvatore helping him find his new place. She’d never seen him so chatty, except when he talked about RAMs and gigabytes. In Harperworld, she usually needed subtitles, but not tonight.
His nonstop stream of consciousness meant only one thing. Harper was nervous.
When they got to his floor, Seth unlocked his front door. Still looking a little on edge, he let her walk in first. And her jaw dropped when she saw what he’d done.
“Oh, Seth. This is . . . beautiful,” she gasped.
Harper had his place lit with white candles, flickering romance wherever she looked. And she smelled fresh flowers. He’d placed bundles of colorful lilies and roses throughout his loft. Wine had been poured. Music was playing softly in the background. And a silver tray of appetizers was on a bar near the kitchen.
Seth had staged everything.
“That call you made at the airport. Your roommate lit all these candles, didn’t he? Either that, or you didn’t pay your light bill.”
“Someone else did it. My roommate isn’t much of a romantic.” He grinned. “So, you like it?”
“Like it? Harper, I love it.” Jessie walked into the loft with her mouth open. “You did all this . . . for me?”
Everywhere she looked, he’d done something special. He’d enlarged photos of them in New York and placed them on shelves. And he’d framed striking black-and-white images of her favorite spots in Chicago and hung them on the walls, places she’d told him about. Even the music he had playing was more to her taste than his.
“Why not?” He shrugged with a smile. “You came all this way to be with me. I wanted your visit to be special.”
The old Jessie would have beaten herself up with guilt. She hadn’t come back to Chicago for Seth alone, not exactly. Even though she had missed Harper terribly since his trip to New York, she had another personal reason for coming, and she dreaded having to tell him. But the new Jessie fought the sting of tears and the lump in her throat, accepting Seth’s beautiful gift.
No one had ever done something so thoughtful for her. And before she met Harper, she never thought she deserved to be happy. Her abused past had been a lifetime prison sentence, without the possibility of parole. But seeing herself through Seth’s eyes had allowed her to hope things could change. Maybe it was okay to let someone good like him into her life.
Maybe she had a chance at being normal if she let it happen. Harper was a heaping helping of normal compared to her crazy standards.
“I want you to be happy.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, as if he’d read her mind. “Actually . . . I was hoping that if you liked it, you might want to . . . move back to Chicago and live here with me. I’ve missed you, Jess.”
She turned and looked him in the eye. Now his nervousness made sense. Seth had more on his mind than spending a few days with her.
“I’ve missed you, too, Harper.” She heard the catch in her voice. “But I need to tell you—”
She wanted to explain the main reason why she’d come, but Harper stopped her. He touched a finger to her lips and pulled her close.
“You don’t need to tell me anything. Not tonight. I just want us to be together. Keep things simple, you know?” He kissed her forehead. “I’m not pressuring you. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“I will. I promise.” She nestled into his arms and breathed him in.
The truth was that she had thought a lot about moving back. She’d never gotten used to living in New York City. She was a Midwest girl, and Chicago felt more like home.
Until Harper came along, she’d never thought about putting down any real roots. Her old South Chicago apartment had been more of a self-inflicted wound. She never thought she deserved better, but Harper made her want . . . more.
“But if I move in, what will your roommate say?”
“Absolutely nothing. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“So where is he?” she asked.
“I banished him for tonight. I wanted you all to myself.” When he grinned, his cheeks colored pink. “You can meet him tomorrow.”
Jess didn’t have the heart to tell him she wanted to be on the road early. The trip to La Pointe, Wisconsin, would take most of the day. The police chief would be expecting her, but after seeing everything Seth had done, she kept that information to herself for a while longer. He’d asked to keep things simple, and she knew what he meant.
For one sweet night, no drama.
When morning came, she’d find a way to tell him. Harper would want to go with her, but this was one trip she had to take alone.
Mexico
Last night, Ramon Guerrero had awakened fifteen-year-old Estella Calderone in the middle of the night, the way he usually did lately. He took what he wanted like an animal, without saying a word.
When he was done, he forced her to get dressed and come with him, ignoring her questions. When they got outside his hacienda near Juárez, two cars were waiting in front with headlights blazing. And his men were nothing more than dark silhouettes, without faces.
“You ride with them.” He waved a hand, barely looking at her. “Watch over the American in the back. He’s your responsibility.”
Guerrero gave his order and told her to ride in the van. That was the first time she had seen the wounded man.
“What’s happening? Who is he?” she asked, but no one answered, not even Guerrero.
Estella was shoved inside the van and did as she was told. She would not be traveling with Guerrero. His car would follow at a safe distance behind the van. And she would be alone with two men she didn’t know.
Now that it was hours later and nearly dusk, Estella had had plenty of time to think. She realized she was as much a prisoner as the American who lay unconscious at her feet in the back of the moving van. She stared down at the man with his hands tied behind his back, experiencing a strange envy.
One way or another, his incarceration would one day end. She could not say the same.
Her thoughts turned to Ramon Guerrero, the man who had owned her for the last two years. He’d traded drugs for her. And her mother had been too strung out to say no.
At first, she had been glad to have a roof over her head and food in her belly. Guerrero had her clean his house, do his laundry, and cook for him and his men at his hacienda near Juárez.
But all that changed two weeks ago.
One night, Guerrero had staggered into her room without putting on the lights. He’d been drinking. She’d smelled it on his breath. He forced her to take off her clothes, and he hurt her, covering her mouth as she cried. After that, he didn’t ask her to clean or cook for him.
She’d become his whore.
What she had done with him had been a sin. And now she was no more than a common criminal, too. If she got caught with the American, she’d spend the rest of her life in prison, blamed for what Guerrero had done. It would not matter to the authorities that she’d been ordered to take care of the wounded man and keep him quiet if he got delirious.
She’d been given a canteen of water and an old rag. Not knowing what else to do, she kept his lips moist and dabbed the wet rag on his forehead and neck to keep him cool in the sweltering heat. If the man died while in her care, she’d be accused of far worse than kidnapping.
Hot air swept into the open windows of the van and sucked in suffocating billows of dust, forcing her to squint and hold her breath. Every now and then, she gazed through the windshield and caught a glimpse of road signs, the only way she knew they were heading south, deeper into Mexico.
Estella made the sign of the cross and shut her eyes tight as her lips moved in prayer. She had her doubts that God listened to a whore, but it gave her comfort even if it was only for a moment.
“We’ll stop for gas.” One of the men turned and spoke to her in Spanish. “You stay put. If you have to pee, squat in the corner. And don’t let anyone see you. Understand?”
The man’s eyes trailed down to her breasts. She hated how he looked at her.
“What is your name?” he asked.
She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath before she answered him.
“Estella.”
By the way the man stared, she wondered if there was another reason she’d been told to go with them—and taking care of the American had only been an excuse to distract her. She had a bad feeling that Guerrero had grown tired of her, and that meant only one thing. She was no longer just his whore. Maybe he’d promised her to these men.
“This one, she has a pretty mouth,” the man said to the driver. When they both laughed, Estella crossed her arms and looked away.
That was when she saw that the American was awake.
One of his eyes was swollen shut, but with the other, he stared straight through to her soul.
Estella gasped.
Although she wanted to talk to him, she didn’t dare. She waited until Guerrero’s men stopped the car and got out at the gas station.
When she was alone with the injured man, she whispered in English, “Who are you?”
The man blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She reached for the damp rag and held it out to him.
“This may hurt.”
With a trembling hand, she dabbed his forehead with the rag and water trickled down the man’s swollen cheek. The American winced as he stared at her, accusing her with the unrelenting glare from his good eye.
“I did not do this. I swear. I am a prisoner, like you.”
Estella didn’t know if he believed her. He let her touch him and cool his brow before he slowly closed his eyes again. Before he drifted to sleep, she leaned closer and brushed his damp hair off his face.
“If I can, I will stay with you, señor,” she whispered, only loud enough for him to hear.
Estella didn’t know why she had felt such a strong urge to comfort the man with a lie. If Guerrero was involved, the American was as good as dead, especially if he was being taken to Guerrero’s powerful boss.
The American didn’t stand a chance. And she knew exactly how that felt.