Chapter Fifteen

The last five days had been mile after mile of flight time once they’d left the first military base. Liz had had plenty of time to reread the letter from Drake. After much self-evaluation, she’d discovered she wasn’t like her mother when it came to being strong and self-reliant. Sure, she still had a level of fear, but in a controlled way. And sometimes that meant one moment at a time.

On the other hand, Mitch always seemed to be thinking five steps ahead. Like a chess game, he appeared to be making each move for a deliberate reason. He was an interesting man to understand. Difficult to get to know. One second, he’d be strong and to the point in what he expected. The next, kind and thoughtful, explaining where, why, and when for what he asked her to do. She liked the thoughtful Mitch better but understood the strong side…even felt an allegiance.

Liz had thought, once the chopper picked them up, everything would fall into place. Instead, their itinerary had included traveling to one state after another. One city after another. One government runway after another. Although, the place last night had been nothing more than an airstrip in the middle of nowhere.

They’d ridden everything from a commercial airline to private jet to a prop puddle jumper. But nothing had compared to the adventure of taking off from land in an amphibious plane in Michigan, only to touch down on one of the many lakes in Wisconsin a few hours later.

On some flights, Mitch, Reese, and she were all on board. Others, Mitch and she went one direction. Reese went another, only to be magically waiting for them at the next stop. Too bad she hadn’t been able to use her frequent flyer number.

She might be shorter and slower, but she’d kept up all the way. Mitch had told her, after their last flight landed at Fort Benning, Georgia, that they were almost to the location he’d chosen to hide the two of them. Reese had headed in a different direction. Now, Mitch and she were in a car with tinted windows, one that could probably outrun every other car on the road, and they were going five miles below the speed limit. He seemed to be going out of his way to obey every driving law.

The dashboard clock read 4:00 p.m. What time zone? She had no idea. The sun was on the right side of the car, so she figured they were heading south. Suddenly, a tree at the side of the road caught her attention, then another, and another.

“Are those palm trees?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Palm trees grow in Florida?”

“Yeah.”

“Where the hell are you taking us?” She didn’t use curse words lightly; then again, she’d done a lot of things in the past few days she didn’t usually do. What was one more?

“We’re headed to the safest place I know.” He rolled his head in a circle, complete with tiny popping sounds. “I think you’ll like it. Got a great view.”

“Let me get this straight. There are people chasing us. I’m a target. You’re a target. The whole OPAQUE organization is a target.” She heard her voice getting louder, but she couldn’t stop. “But no matter what, there are no worries, because there’s a”—she shook her frustration fists in front of her face—”Damn. Great. View.”

Pressing her fingers against her forehead, she turned to look out the passenger window. Palm trees, palm trees, palm trees.

Mitch grinned. “You seem a little…uh…upset.”

“Upset? Upset is nothing compared to how you make me feel.” She pointed her finger in his direction and glared. “You’re crazy. You. Are. All. Crazy.”

“Think so?”

“Know so.”

Her control had reached its breaking point, and his grin had tipped her over the line. “What is with the Sunday-driving-eighty-year-old speed we keep going?”

Mitch slammed the pedal down and the car jolted forward as its tires ate up the clear road straight ahead. He accelerated in and out of curves, left, then right, back left. She gripped the door rest and pressed her feet on the nonexistent brake in the passenger side floor. Quickly he braked, spun a three-sixty, and came out headed straight on down the road back at the breakneck speed of five below the speed limit.

Blowing out a sigh, she settled back in her seat. “Like I said…you’re crazy.”

“Would a crazy guy be breaking every rule in the training manual, hoping CT can’t figure out where we’re headed? Doing anything he can think of to throw them off the scent?” Mitch clicked open the moonroof. “Would a crazy guy fly us all over the United States? Sometimes hidden, sometimes letting anyone who might be clocking us know exactly where we were?”

He made sense on some level. After all, she’d overheard him making arrangements for everything they’d done. Always thinking three steps ahead. Directing Reese and Josh on their responsibilities. Keeping her shielded, close against his side. Making sure she had everything she needed—clothes, food, magazines, shampoo, and a different shampoo when the first one didn’t get the camo makeup out of her hair. Neither had that one. She looked more and more like a freak every time she looked in a mirror.

“Well, would he?” Mitch asked. “I don’t think so. Hell, I’ve got CT so screwed up they have no idea where we are. For all they know, we may be in another country.”

At this point, being in another country wouldn’t have surprised her, but she didn’t want to talk any more. Didn’t want to think. “I’m just tired. So very, very tired.”

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, laying her hand on the seat.

“I know.” His voice softened as he covered her hand with his own, squeezing lightly. “We’ll be there soon, and you can get some rest.”

She’d grown to love the warmth of his hand on hers. The way he steered her with a touch of his hand against the small of her back. Or how he’d move her from one side of him to the other with only a touch of his fingers on her arm. She’d miss that when this was over.

As a journalist, she was continually doing synonym searches for words. She’d never researched the word safe. Had no idea what other words might give the same meaning. To her, right now, safe meant Mitch. So did warmth.

She lolled her head in his direction and opened her eyes. “So tell me, what is this great view?”

He looked straight ahead and pointed. “That.”

She followed his line of sight then sucked in a deep breath. “Please tell me that’s the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Afraid not. That’s the Gulf of Mexico. We passed through Panama City, Florida and are heading across the Hathaway Bridge.” He veered to the right as they left the bridge and turned onto Highway 98. “We’ll run up the coastline a ways.”

“Are we headed to Pensacola?”

“In that direction, but we’ll stop long before then. I’m serious, though, this is a nice place. You’ll be safe.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know the owner.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “MGBa-Dass, Inc.”

“MGBa-Dass, Inc.? Never heard of them.” Of course, she’d never heard of OPAQUE till a few days ago. And look how well that had turned out.

Mitch shot her a quick glance. “Not many people have. Why don’t you get some rest?”

Even though the drive was breathtaking, all she could think about was her father’s lie all these years. And her mother. Why hadn’t she, at least, told her? Sure, she’d been way too young to be privy to the details of her family’s life in the WPP. But why hadn’t her mother left her a letter to be read once she grew up? A warning of some kind.

“Oh, Mama,” Liz said. “Why…why?”

“Did you say something?” Mitch asked.

“No, not really. I was thinking about my life. Evidently, my dad didn’t trust me. And even my mother took the secret to her grave.” Liz lifted her chin. “I will never forgive my dad. He had no right to put us in that danger.”

“I’m sure he did what he thought was right at the time. Drake told me your dad talked to your mom before he agreed to help on the first case. She told him to do what he felt was right. I imagine she told him the same thing after CT paid you all a visit.”

Liz turned toward Mitch. By now, she’d learned a few of his tells when he was walking a thin line on truth and lie. Like the tiny twitch at the corner of his eye. Clipped words. She saw no evidence of either.

When she was young, she’d believed her parents had been so in love—little touches, quick kisses. The way they laughed at the same things. Even the way she’d seen them look at each other when they thought she wasn’t watching. But reading Drake’s letter had left her wondering just who her mother had really loved. Had she really chosen to go with Russ so he’d have someone he knew with him in his new life? A nice, safe life in a nice, new place. Or had she fled Drake because she didn’t have the nerve to be part of his world?

Once her mother made her choice, of course she’d have done anything for the family. As Liz’s childhood passed, she’d had no doubt her mother always told her dad to do what he thought best. Didn’t mean she really wanted that outcome. Didn’t mean he actually had to take that path.

Then, the nice, quiet life her mother had taken great pains to choose had been completely shattered once Russ began to work with OPAQUE as an informant. That could explain why her mother had seemed to change after CT showed up at their house. Why she seemed to give up when cancer intervened in their lives.

No. Liz couldn’t accept that logic. “So, just like that, I’m supposed to think better of him? Give him a pass on dragging us away from a normal life in the WPP while he lived his life of excitement helping law enforcement?”

Her breath seemed to stick in her throat. Flashes of brightness blinked in her eyes, her mind. A memory from the past flooded her mind like an arrow straight to the target’s bull’s-eye.

“I didn’t say that,” Mitch said. “But don’t lay all the blame at his feet, either. You may not know the whole story.”

She knew enough. The past few days of flying had given her plenty of time to put a lot of events in her life in perspective. They weren’t all things to be overlooked. She wasn’t always ten years old. Coloring books disappeared. Her mother’s arms weren’t there to hold her any longer.

A sudden shiver swerved through her body. Cold. So, cold. Why was her mouth so dry?

Mitch touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Su…re. Why?”

“You’re practically panting, Liz. What’s wrong?” He slowed the car, tapping the button for the warning lights, then reached across and placed his hand on her shoulder. Gently, he circled his fingers. “Come on, everything’s okay. I’m right here.”

Gradually, she calmed her breathing and yanked herself out of the fear closing in on her thoughts. The fear of being alone. No windows. No coloring book. No mother’s arms holding her close.

“Do I need to pull off the road?” he asked.

She shook her head. As much as she’d like to feel the comfort of Mitch’s arms around her, there was really no place to safely stop. “No…no… I’ll be okay.”

He clicked off the warning lights and resumed his speed. And, even though he’d moved his hands back to the steering wheel, his sideways glances at her said she needed to explain. Explain something she hadn’t thought of in years.

“Looking back, I realize CT came more than one time. My dad always made me hide. Of course, I didn’t know who they were exactly, but it didn’t take me long to figure out they weren’t to be trusted,” she whispered, then swallowed to clear her emotions. “Do you know how many places don’t have windows? How dark the dark can be when you’re twelve years old and alone?”

Slowly, he blew out a long, cheek-puffing breath then shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Did you tell your dad how much those times bothered you?”

“No. He wasn’t the same after my mother died. Didn’t laugh as much. His shoulders slumped, and…his eyes lost their happiness.” She dabbed at the tears in the corners of her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, he was always there when I needed him. But I tried not to bother him with my personal problems.”

“I’m sure you weren’t a bother to him.”

She nodded as a sarcastic smile smirked at her mouth. “You keep on thinking that. He’d always be happier after their visits. Toss a handful of money on the table. Tell me to take care of myself and stay out of trouble. Then go off for days. Come back with a case of Johnnie Walker and a box of cigars. New clothes. New haircut. New woman friend to talk to on the phone.”

They drove quietly for a couple more minutes, then Mitch turned right, onto a road headed toward the shoreline. “Sometimes a man does what he has to do for the good of someone else. Otherwise he can’t live with himself. Then, there gets to be a point where there’s no going back.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

His non-answer told her nothing. In her journalistic mind, that made for an interesting answer. Of course, it could be he needed to concentrate on the directions to this hideaway house. He’d made a few turns on smaller and smaller roads, with bigger and bigger houses alongside.

“We’re here. What do you think?” He stopped the car and pointed to a three-story house only steps from the beach. “This is the back of the house. The front faces the water.”

The lines were sleek and modern, sitting a short way back from the dunes bordering the white sand beach that stretched into the blue water of the Gulf. She might not know exactly where they were, but she knew the general location. This was a waterfront mansion.

“Exactly, who is this B-adass, Ba-dass…whatever it’s called? Who owns this place?” Her mind raced, trying to narrow down anything she might have missed in the last few days.

Mitch drove into the garage on the first level, parked in one of the four spots. The one that had a brass sign posted above—MGBa-Dass.

Ba-Dass…Ba…

“By all that’s holy, it’s you. Mitch Granger Bad Ass,” she said.

“Incorporated.” He raised his eyebrows then got out of the car.

She followed his lead as he locked the garage then gestured for her to choose either the steps or the elevator. She chose the stairs because it gave her more time to think. At the top, he opened the door, pushed some buttons on the wall, then moved aside for her to enter.

The whoosh of sliding drapes sounded from across the room, as the wall of windows revealed the full panorama of the Gulf waves beyond. The floor was marble. The furnishings modern. The fireplace scaled the wall all the way to the peak in the cathedral ceiling. The upper floor, where she imagined the bedrooms were located, had a balcony that reached partway across the spacious great room.

She’d never seen anything so beautiful in all her life.

“You…you own this?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s all mine.” Mitch half grinned, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about CT finding us here. My corporation is a subsidiary below a lot of other businesses, with many twists and turns.”

“Legal?”

“All legal.”

As a woman who’d spent her entire career trying to get to the bottom of the story, any story, she wondered if this was more than just hiding your assets because you work for OPAQUE. “This had to cost at least four…five million dollars.”

“It’s probably worth between six and eight.” He reset the security system then walked toward the windows, moving a long, sleek, brass and polished mahogany telescope and tripod over to the corner. She figured the lenses in that one had cost more than just a few hundred dollars.

Passing the coffee table, he pressed a button on the remote. Instantly, the wall of windows cascaded back, one on top of the other, until they completely disappeared into the side walls.

“So, was I right about the view?” His tone seemed to want her approval.

Slowly, she nodded then walked out on the deck, taking in the sea spray scent with each breath she took. What was left of her hair fluttered in the breeze. “From what I’ve seen, this place is perfect. And, the Gulf view is fantastic.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close against his chest. “I hoped you would.”

His lips felt good on her cheek, on her lips, on her neck. Without thinking she arched against him, leaning into his embrace, into his kisses. He wasn’t her protector right now. He was only Mitch. The man she wanted with all her being. The man who owned this view. This spectacular multi-million-dollar house.

Suddenly she pushed out of his arms and took a few steps back. Something wasn’t right. Shaking her head, she held her hands up in front of her. “No…no.”

He took a step back also. “I shouldn’t have done that. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s not about the kisses.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

There was no way to say this but straight out. The answer might shatter what was building between them, but she had to know. Had to ask. “What did you do, Mitch? Before? What did you do in your past, to ever be able to afford this place?”