Chapter Four

Martin Dunn paced beside his truck, watching two young mothers stroll with their babies along the Rockton Community Park sidewalk.

Someday, he thought. Someday soon, he and Lacey would start planning their family. He wanted a son to carry on his name, and a daughter as sweet and lovely as her mother. Above all else, he wanted his wife back by his side, in their home, singing and laughing like she used to right after they were married.

A car drove past, but it didn’t turn into the parking lot. Martin knew he was early, but how much longer would he have to wait? His stomach clenched at the prospect of the upcoming meeting. Nerves and excitement tangled with anxiety. After today, everything would be different. Right or wrong, the ball had been set in motion and he couldn’t stop it, even if he wanted.

Six months ago, Martin’s world spun out of control when they received the diagnosis of Lacey’s inoperable brain tumor. Six months of tests, of hope, of disappointments that had sucked dry their life’s savings until finally the doctors admitted there was nothing more they could do.

Lacey had only weeks left to live, if that.

Then Martin read on the internet about experimental drugs in Oklahoma and Utah, specifically formulated to reduce the tumor size. The local doctors insisted it was too late. The cancer had progressed too far. But Martin refused to give up. With the house already mortgaged to the hilt, he’d pleaded with the bank on four different occasions to lend more money with no success. The manager was sympathetic, but could do nothing.

That was when Mr. Smith approached him.

A dark silver Lexus slid into the parking spot next to Martin’s truck. He checked his watch. Right on time.

Mr. Smith, probably not his real name, climbed out of the car and smoothed a hand over his neatly buzzed blond hair.

Martin instinctively brushed his beard, realizing that he hadn’t trimmed it in almost a month. Not that it mattered. Lacey had started to go blind. She said she didn’t care what he looked like. She just wanted to hear his voice.

“Do you have the money?” Martin asked.

Mr. Smith reached inside his suit jacket, ridiculous on such a warm autumn day, and pulled out a thick white envelope. He held up the packet, but didn’t pass it over.

Martin stared at the envelope, a trickle of sweat dampening his collar. The thick pay-off packet held more money than he could make in five years working as a security guard at Unified Biotech Laboratories. The money in that envelope would pay for all of his wife’s care. Astoundingly, it was only the deposit. The rest would come after the job was complete. All he had to do was lend his access key card to Mr. Smith. The rest would be out of his hands.

Mr. Smith had approached Martin after the bank turned down his fourth request for a loan to pay the mounting medical bills. At first, he’d thought Smith was running some sort of scam. He had difficulty believing Smith could deliver on his promise of the money.

Then Mr. Smith made the outrageous request. Martin realized that to pull off such a task, there must be plenty of cash to make it happen. If Martin didn’t do it, Mr. Smith would find someone else who would. Regardless of Mr. Smith’s appearance—a slight build and light-colored skin, which defied Martin’s preconceptions of how a terrorist should look, he had little doubt that Smith would dispose of Martin and move on to the next schmuck in need of some ready cash. Then who would save Lacey?

Martin despised the man, who appeared to be an American, like himself. And he didn’t want to know the details of Smith’s plans, either. Martin wasn’t a saint. It was enough to know that they were breaking so many laws that, if caught, they’d never see daylight again. Besides, he didn’t have to guess what Mr. Smith wanted from the lab. Nor did he have to stretch his imagination about what Smith would do after he got his hands on the pathogens. Just thinking about the invisible bugs his employer housed at the lab gave him the willies. The fact that he’d been assured none of the stuff was going to stay in the country wasn’t the only reason Dunn agreed to Mr. Smith’s terms, but it certainly tipped the scales.

Martin looked at the envelope in Smith’s hand again. Gauged the substantial weight. Measured the risk against the reward. His wife would receive the help she needed. They’d find a doctor who’d cure her. Pay for the special treatment and medicines denied them by the stingy insurance companies.

Lacey would live.

“Do we have a deal?” Mr. Smith’s voice was level.

Dunn swallowed. “Sure. We have a deal.” He held out his hand.

Mr. Smith hesitated then placed the envelope in Martin’s hand. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Uh, that’s where we’re going to have a problem.” That trickle of sweat started to feel like river rolling down the side of Martin’s neck.

“Problem?” Mr. Smith’s glacial stare sent a ripple of dread through Martin. “Are you changing our agreement?”

“Well, uh. Yeah.” Martin cleared his throat and scratched the growth on his jaw. “You see, there’s this biker rally tomorrow. I have to be there to cover for the Sergeant of Arms. I’m not going to the lab. I took the day off.” He licked his lips. “And to do what you need, I have to be at the lab. My access card won’t read if I don’t check in. If I show up on my day off, the boss will start asking questions. We’ll have to do this next week.” Martin squared his shoulders and looked the other man in the eyes. “Besides, law enforcement is crawling out from under every rock to be near the rally. It’ll be too hard to make a clean get-away.”

“I see,” Mr. Smith blinked rapidly, as though avoiding dust in his eyes, except the breeze barely ruffled the park’s trees.

Martin shifted uneasily, waiting for the other man to say more. They could do the job next week instead of tomorrow. What were a few more days?

Except for the whisper of leaves above them, and a school bell ringing in the distance, silence marked each passing second. Sweat from Martin’s palms stained the corners of the envelope. He stuffed it inside his back pocket, afraid Mr. Smith might change his mind and take away his only hope of saving Lacey. He swallowed again, and forced himself to stand still under Smith’s penetrating gaze.

“No change in plans.” Mr. Smith’s voice was rigid and stern.

“But…”

“We’ll adapt.” Smith cut off his objection harshly. “The plan is good. No one would expect such a job right under the noses of the authorities.”

“But…I already told you. I won’t be at work tomorrow.”

“You won’t have to be. I’ve heard about the rally. It’s being held at one of the campgrounds in the national forest, correct?”

“Yeah…”

Mr. Smith nodded. “Good. The proximity of the rally to the lab will work to our advantage. You must get me into the rally.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather retrieve the vials yourself.”

“No way.” Martin shuddered.

“Then?”

“I don’t know, man. The club will know you’re an outsider.”

“You’ll tell them I’m family.” Before Martin could point out that Smith would never pass as one of his brothers, the man continued, “On your wife’s side.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “That just might work.” No one around Rockton knew Lacey’s family. She’d moved from California just a couple of years ago. “Others are bringing their old ladies or hang-arounds.” Martin warmed up to the idea. “Yeah. We could say you’re here to visit Lacey and you wanted to see some real badasses.”

“There you are.” Smith inclined his head. “As you say. Real badasses.”

“Meet me at Sammy’s Café tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp. We’ll ride up together. That is if you don’t mind ridin’ on the back of my bike. I can’t drive my truck to the rally.”

“I will be there.” With that, Mr. Smith turned and climbed into his Lexus. Golden leaves from the surrounding trees reflected on the car’s dark polished paint. The crunch of gravel under the tires masked the quiet motor as the expensive sedan drove away.

Martin swallowed his doubt. It would all work out. It had to. With the thick envelope of money in his possession, failure was the last thing he could afford.

****

Nothing was going as planned. The sporting goods store hadn’t carried the boots Caitlin wanted for hiking the trails, which meant she’d have to make do with her old boots. Jack was serious when he’d said she’d be on the back of his bike. His other bike was in the shop and she’d have to double up with him on the ride into the mountains. So much for having her own set of wheels for the weekend. To cap it off, she’d no sooner driven up to the house before Mac came striding out and climbed in the passenger side of her SUV.

“We’re going to the hospital to see Sean.” He slammed the door closed. “Whether you like it or not.”

Caitlin threw him a mutinous scowl. Without a word, she reversed the SUV and headed toward the hospital at the other end of town.

Three minutes into the drive, Mac finally spoke again. “Aren’t you going to argue with me?”

She glanced at him. “Would it do me any good?”

“No.”

Caitlin’s lips thinned. Of course, it wouldn’t. She’d known the minute he stepped out of the house he’d have his way, regardless of the trouble he put her through. She’d learned years ago that these situations were easier to ride out than to fight. Besides, she’d already promised Uncle Jack she’d at least try to see her father today. It would keep Mac from hounding her and make her feel less guilty about attending the rally.

That compromise was Grandma Mac’s influence. Some days, Caitlin wished she didn’t have a conscience. She gunned the engine harder than necessary and took the turn onto Main Street.

Mac gripped the armrest. “What is your problem, Caitlin?”

“What do you mean?”

“It won’t kill you to see him. He’s your father, for heaven’s sake.”

“I know that, Mac.”

“So why are you acting like a spoiled brat whose favorite TV show was cancelled?”

She eased up on the gas pedal. “I’m driving there, aren’t I?”

“Under duress.”

“You didn’t twist my arm.”

Mac’s burst of laughter was without humor. “Someone must have, because you didn’t even blink when I climbed in the car.”

Caitlin gripped the steering wheel tighter, until her knuckles turned white. She wouldn’t let Mac get to her. Nor was she willing to confess that Jack refused to take her to the rally unless she’d visited the hospital. “I can admit when I’m wrong, okay?”

This time Mac’s hearty laughter sounded genuine. “Did we take a wrong turn into The Twilight Zone?” He leaned back in his seat and grinned. “I can see the headlines now. ‘Signs that the END is near: Caitlin Malone acknowledges she’s wrong.’”

In spite of her frustration, Caitlin felt her lips curl upward.

Without trying, Mac dispelled her dark mood as though it was simple chalk dust.

“I hate it when you do that, you know.” What she didn’t hate was the way his laugh reminded her of all the good times she and Mac had enjoyed back when things were less complicated between them.

He reached over and tugged her braid. “That’s why I do it. You’ve been too uptight since you came home. Care to talk about it?”

“Not now.” She shook her head.

He shrugged. “Both my ears are yours. I’m happy to listen, you know.”

She nodded. “I know.” His ears were hers, but not his heart. She pushed the thought away and gave him a smile that almost reached her eyes. “Thanks, but not right now. ’Kay?”

“On your own time.”

With those words, a quiet truce settled inside the vehicle. Caitlin had always loved Mac’s company. Something about being with him felt right. Complete. Their recent past still carried unresolved issues, but they had too much history together for familiarity not to affect their relationship. For the moment, the tension from last night scuttled away and allowed her to relax.

The sign for the hospital entrance appeared at the side of the road sooner than she was ready. Caitlin tried to enjoy the last few moments, but the closer they got, the more apprehensive she became. By the time she parked the SUV, her palms were damp and her heart raced.

Although she’d sent her father Christmas and birthday cards, two years was a long time without seeing him.

Mac climbed out and waited for her to join him. She stared at the building as though it was a monster waiting to swallow her whole. Yesterday, she’d been resigned to confessing her failure as a Northstar agent. Now, she didn’t have to. At least not yet. In fact, she wanted to hide the truth from her father to spare him more worry. He had enough on his plate without adding her woes.

“Are you going to sit there all day?” Mac raised a brow.

Caitlin shook herself. Might as well get the visit over with. She climbed out and followed Mac through the hospital doors. “What kind of tests are they running?”

“You’ll have to ask Sean,” Mac answered. “He was the one who insisted on coming here instead of St. Anthony’s. He’s sure it’s just the flu.”

“But you think differently.” Caitlin wasn’t asking a question.

Mac’s expression told her everything she needed to know. “You’ll know too, when you see him.”

Mac led her down the hallway until they came to room 23. The small hospital didn’t boast many beds, and most were used for hospice care instead of actual hospital rooms, forcing Rockton’s residents to either drive to LaGrand or Pendleton if they needed more than basic care. The fact that her father had chosen to come here, instead of a larger hospital, proved to Caitlin he was in denial about his condition.

Mac knocked on the partially open door and pushed it wider. “Hi, Sean.”

“I heard from Caitlin this morning.” Sean bellowed above the blare of the television mounted to the wall. “I thought I made it clear not to call my daughter!”

“Don’t yell at Mac. It’s not his fault.” Caitlin’s words were out before she got a good look at her father. She peeked around Mac’s broad back.

Her father’s pinched face looked too pale under a head of flaming red hair streaked with gray. Lines etched deeply along his mouth, as though gritting his teeth was the only way to hold back the pain. He was sitting in a large chair by the window, but she could tell his stature had lessened. His shoulders were rounded instead of broad and straight. His spine curled as though warding off some unseen demon. Could the bullet have done this kind of damage in so short a time or was there something more? She’d never seen her father look so old.

Shrewd blue eyes narrowed at her, belying his condition. “You gonna stand there and deny Mac didn’t drive you over here?”

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped in front of Mac. “Yes.”

“Ha!” Regardless of his appearance, his belligerent attitude hadn’t changed.

Caitlin gasped. “Excuse me,” she nearly shouted at her father. “Are you calling me a liar?”

A nurse pushed into the room past Caitlin and Mac. She stood between them and Sean. “For goodness sake. Everyone can hear you clear down the hall.” She gave Caitlin and Mac a frosty glare. “If you can’t keep your conversation contained to this room, you’ll have to leave.”

“Fine by me,” Sean answered. “I’ll just leave with them.”

The nurse wheeled around pointed a bony finger at Sean. “I wasn’t talking to you, Sean Malone.” She turned to scold Mac and Caitlin. “There’re regulations that visitors are expected to follow. Understand?”

Caitlin and Mac nodded in unison.

“Good.” The nurse found the TV remote and turned down the volume. Then she crossed to the wall where the blood pressure cuff hung. “As long as I’m here, I’m might as well check your vitals,” she said to Sean. “If there’s so much as a blip, then your visitors will have to leave.”

“Hell, Angie,” Sean protested. “They just got here.”

The nurse’s lips thinned and she lifted an eyebrow. “A blip.”

Her father heaved a sigh of submission and held out his arm. Caitlin had seen only one other person make her father acquiesce. Grandma Mac. She was amazed at the transformation brought about by the nurse. A moment ago, he’d acted as though he didn’t want her in the room and with the nurse’s threat, he now wanted them to stay. Talk about reverse psychology.

Nurse Angie hooked a stethoscope in her ears. Caitlin would’ve sworn the woman took pleasure in pumping the cuff to its fullest over her father’s thin arm, seemingly to impress upon him who was in charge. Air hissed through the valve as she slowly released the pressure. The nurse frowned at Sean.

Sean’s expression went rigid. “You’re not making them leave,” he told her.

Nurse Angie’s response was to pick up his wrist and time his pulse against her watch. Caitlin held her breath at her father’s look of vulnerability as he waited for the nurse’s approval. Then he caught her staring at him and the look was gone, replaced by his mask of belligerence. She wondered if she’d imagined the weakness at all.

After finishing her task, the nurse glanced at Mac and Caitlin. “No more shouting.”

“See. I’m fine,” Sean jutted out his chin in a taunt.

The nurse released a hiss through her lips, but clicked her jaw shut. She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Sean started to chuckle, but it quickly turned into a cough. Mac filled a glass with water and handed it to the older man. After Sean took a swallow he said, “Damn, if that isn’t the fastest I’ve seen her move since I arrived.”

Caitlin fisted her hands. She wanted to hit something. This situation was too similar to her mother’s last days in the hospital. Caitlin had only been seven at the time, but the memories flooded her with overwhelming force. She hadn’t thought about those horrible days in years. Not since Grandma Mac died. Now she faced reliving the trauma all over again with her father. “Dad, what tests are the doctors doing?”

Sean slammed the water glass on the bedside table with such force that water splashed over the rim and down his arm, but he ignored it. “My health stopped being your concern when you ignored my wishes and walked out of the house, Caitlin.”

Mac stepped forward, an objection forming on his lips.

The look Sean gave Mac stopped him. “And I’ll thank you to keep out of it.”

Heat prickled along Caitlin’s neck. The suffocating frustration she had experienced the night she and her father argued about her job at Northstar surfaced all over again. Only this time, Mac was here to witness her humiliation. With tremendous effort, she fought the urge to run from the room. “I’m here, Dad.” She swallowed the tremor in her voice. “I came back.”

“You came home because Byron sent you.”

Her face went cold. “He called you?” Byron O’Neal had been adamant that Caitlin face her father and admit her failure on her own terms. Instead, it seemed her employer hadn’t trusted her. His betrayal stung almost as much as her father’s rejection.

“After Mac tried to find you. Yes, he called me.”

Her legs wobbled, but she refused to sit. “And he told you about what happened in—”

“He told me he sent you home.” There was a gleam in her father’s eyes that hadn’t been there when they’d first entered his room. “Why did he send you home, Caitlin?” her father asked with precise insight.

Her father didn’t know about Atlanta.

Byron hadn’t betrayed her. She’d betrayed herself. “I…” She glanced from her father to Mac, whose interested gaze offered no retreat. After wiping her palms on her jeans, she stuffed balled fists into her pockets. There was no way out but to admit the truth. “I screwed up my first assignment.” That was an understatement.

“Byron doesn’t send screw-ups home. He fires them.”

Sean’s statement landed squarely at the bottom of her stomach. If she had only made a minor mistake, she would’ve simply been put back on probation. Her inability to correctly assess the situation and follow protocol almost killed another agent. Luck, and incredible timing saved Agent Cartland’s life. His luck, his timing. Not hers. She’d been found wanting when the dust settled.

She cleared the guilt out of her throat. “I believe Byron made an exception for me.”

“He made an exception when he took you on.” Sean shifted in his chair. A look of pain crossed his face. Mac reached to help, but Sean waved him off. “I tried to warn you. You weren’t ready.”

“If you had your way, I would never be ready,” Caitlin said.

“That’s not true. I’ve always wanted the best for you. But it takes maturity and street smarts—”

“Which I had.” An awkward silence followed. “Have.” She corrected herself.

“Obviously it served you well.” The sarcastic bite in her father’s voice salted the open wound of her failure. “You almost lasted ten months, in a field that takes at least three years before you’re dry behind the ears. Another five before you’re considered a seasoned agent.”

Caitlin clamped her mouth shut. What could she say? Her father was right, she was wrong. She was the one with the fatal error in judgment. He was so disgusted with her he didn’t even want her by his hospital bed. “I’ll wait in the SUV.” She tossed the words at Mac. Without looking back, just like when she left home the first time, she stormed out the door.

****

Mac listened to the sound of Caitlin’s angry stride down the hallway. He wanted to chase after her but instead stayed in Sean’s room. “What in the hell did you do that for?” he asked Sean.

“Do what?”

“For heaven’s sake, Sean. Caitlin came here. To see you. And you practically sent her packing again.”

“She refused to own up to her problem,” Sean said. “Or didn’t you notice?”

“All I noticed is the two of you going after each other. And for what? What can either of you gain by fighting?”

“It’s not a simple fight, lad.” Sean pushed to his feet and shuffled to the side of the bed. He sat down heavily and scooted back until he lay in a semi-prone position.

Mac hated seeing his strong friend reduced to this weakened state. He waited patiently for Sean to continue. When he didn’t, Mac asked, “You’re implying it’s more than arguing for the sake of arguing?”

Sean sighed. “Mac, I may not walk out of here.” Mac started to interrupt, but Sean lifted his hand. “Caitlin’s got to be strong enough to stand on her own. She can’t keep running.”

“Have you considered that maybe she didn’t run away, but that you’ve pushed her away?”

“Then she needs to learn to push back.”