Chapter Seven

 

 

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Henry had left, and she wasn’t sure if she missed him or not.

Well, she was sure she missed her husband, but she didn’t miss the problems they had. Life had settled into a comfortable routine, and there were even days when she managed to forget that he’d lied to her.

When she really thought about it, what she liked was the numbness she’d found, and she knew that was a problem. She just couldn’t seem to find her way out of it. While Henry was gone, she didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to think.

Twenty-one days without him. Did she honestly think she could handle a lifetime of this?

The first week had been pretty easy. She’d spent her time changing the craft room into a guest room. Michael had driven her around in his big truck, picking up a mattress and bedding that Michael would use, and then Henry.

If she could hold out.

“I’ve checked the yard. If you want to sit outside for a while, it’s safe enough,” a low voice rumbled.

This was her life now. She had to make sure no evil was lurking before she did something as simple as sitting on her back porch watching the river go by.

Michael Novack took his job far too seriously. He shadowed her everywhere she went. He’d even stopped her from going to the ladies’ room at Stella’s until he was sure it was secure. She foresaw problems as she got bigger.

Right now her baby was only the size of an apple, but from what she’d read that baby would soon use her bladder as a trampoline, and then Michael was going to be in trouble because she wouldn’t care that an assassin could be waiting for her. She would use that bathroom.

“Thank you, Michael. Would you like a cup of tea?” She poured herself a cup of ginger tea. For some reason she found comfort in drinking something before bedtime. It used to be wine. She and Henry would sit together side by side and enjoy a glass of wine as they went over the day’s events.

What had his day been like? What was he doing even as she made tea and prepared for bed? Was he getting back into his former lifestyle? Was he surrounded by beautiful women, his heart pounding with excitement?

“I think I’ll pass on the tea.” Michael had shaved weeks ago, but his beard was already growing back in. They made an odd pair. Michael was a mass of muscle in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket most of the time, while she was most comfortable in her airy skirts and loose blouses and Birkenstocks. The weather was already starting to turn, the chill becoming clear in the air. “But dinner was actually pretty good. I didn’t know I liked eggplant.”

Most people didn’t. It was a highly underused vegetable, in her opinion. She took her tea and started for the back door. “It’s Henry’s favorite. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m making pasta and veggies tomorrow night.”

He followed her out, his footsteps resounding through the cabin. “I look forward to it. It’s nice to have something homemade. I’m afraid I’ve been living off beans and canned chili for a while. Did Henry reach out to you today? I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” All he would tell her was his original plan hadn’t worked out, and he needed to go down to Mexico. Talking to her husband was frustrating these days. She wanted to know what was going on, and he would simply tell her he couldn’t talk about it. It had been her plan. She’d helped him, but now he was shutting her out. “I wonder if he’s going to come home at all.”

“Because of the dudes who showed up last week?” Michael eased himself into the Adirondack chair Henry always used.

It had been two men in black suits. They’d looked utterly out of place standing on her porch asking if they could talk to…Henry Flanders. The man who’d asked had to look down at his notes to remember Henry’s name. His fake name. She was sure they knew John Bishop. But she hadn’t pointed that out. She’d done exactly as instructed. She’d told them Henry was hiking in the woods, thinking about his life. Actually she’d told them he was on walkabout until he figured his ass out.

It was the kind of thing Rachel would have said. It had the men walking away quickly.

“I told him they’d come looking for him and that they were obviously federal officials of some kind.” She sat back, sipping her tea thoughtfully. “I wonder if he’s decided to hide somewhere else now that we know for sure the Agency is aware of where he is.”

Michael was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“He didn’t send me a note today. He always sends me something. In email or a text, although I have to remember that his number changes all the time. He’s using burners.”

Michael chuckled. “I’m always surprised when you know so much about the spy stuff.”

“I read a lot.” She did, though much of her knowledge of the “spy stuff” had come from Henry. She’d always thought he’d done meticulous research, had used his training as an academic to answer her questions and make her work easier. Now she wondered what he actually did with his time since he knew probably everything she asked and didn’t need to spend hours looking up the right caliber of a weapon or how to defuse a bomb. He’d probably defused a hundred.

“I think he loves you. I don’t think you’ll get rid of him so easily. You need to be less insecure.”

She sat up and turned to stare at him because that had been rude.

Michael frowned. “You have the judgmental thing down, Nell. I’m sorry. I used to be better at this. Or maybe I just thought I was. You’re feeling insecure, right? You’re mentally going over every reason a man like Henry would have to marry a woman like you?”

She couldn’t deny it. “We were an odd match in the beginning. It’s occurred to me that I would be good cover. Who would think the great spy master would end up with a woman who protests pretty much everything he used to do? So, yes, I look back and wonder.”

“You worry he couldn’t possibly have loved you if he could keep such a big secret from you.”

Nell sat back and realized this wasn’t merely about her. Somehow it was far easier to talk when she understood Michael needed this, too. “He’s a handsome man. I’m fairly ordinary.”

Michael’s head turned, a single brow rising over his eyes. “You’re a lovely woman.”

She was also a realistic one. “I’m not terrible to look at, but I’m not Laura. I’m not a gorgeous bombshell of a woman. I don’t mean to reduce any person to their looks. That’s wrong, but it’s also foolish to ignore that attractiveness plays a part in relationships. I seriously doubt Henry had dated someone like me before.”

“He probably didn’t date at all. I would assume most of his relationships were transactional. It’s pretty common when you’re undercover.”

“Have you worked undercover?”

“No,” Michael replied. “I didn’t do those kinds of jobs. Everything was upfront. At least it was supposed to be. But I guess I can understand that you question everything. I wonder why she picked me.”

Jessica. His fiancée. Her heart ached for him. “Yes, I can understand that. Would it be horribly hypocritical of me to say she likely picked you because she loved you?”

That actually got his lips to quirk up. “Seriously?”

She was well aware of how hypocritical she sounded. But all relationships were different.

“I’m a natural optimist. It doesn’t mean that I can’t have moments of doubt when it comes to myself.” Moments? It had been weeks and weeks. Weeks spent reexamining everything she’d done, every minute of their relationship. “Do you still love her?”

“I guess that’s the hardest part. I don’t know that I ever knew her. If I didn’t know her, how could I love her?” He sighed. “And that’s where you are, too. The difference is Henry is alive and he’s out there. You have the chance to know him if you want to. Jessie…well even if she’d lived, I would have been forced to hunt her down and arrest her. That’s the hard part. I thought we were living one life, but what she did was counter to everything I thought we believed in. Is that what you’re worried about? You think Henry will get back into his old ways now?”

It was a genuine fear. She’d seen him focused on prepping for the mission he was on. She knew there had been a part of him that missed his old line of work. He’d seemed more animated than he had in weeks. He’d been on the phone with Seth quite often, and he tended to go quiet when she walked in a room. She’d read some of the notes he’d left on his desk. Notes with names like Ian Taggart and Tennessee Smith. Ezra Fain and Levi Green.

She wanted to ask which ones were the men he’d worked with, the ones he’d called friends. But she’d hesitated because when she asked, he always told her not to worry and shut the conversation down.

How hard had it been for him to sit at craft fairs and dole out homemade apple cider? He’d spent weeks making dreamcatchers with her. They’d sold them at the annual spiritual reawakening festival. Had he sat there thinking it was penance for leaving his job behind? Or had it made him realize he’d made a mistake and should get back to it?

Did she have any right to ask him to give it all up?

“I worry those men who came out here a few days ago will want to arrest Henry. But I’m equally worried that they came here to ask him to come back.”

“That’s a definite possibility if he’s as good as I heard he was,” Michael replied. “But I don’t think he’ll go. I think he’s made his choice. Like Jessie made hers.”

Nell hated the hollowness in his voice. “She was desperate. She needed money.”

“There are other ways, Nell. So many other ways. No. She tricked me. She used me.” He turned back to the river. “And that’s how we’re different. As far as I can tell Henry’s only real crime is not talking about his past.”

“And killing a whole bunch of people.” How quickly everyone forgot. “And not telling me he killed a bunch of people. I think if he’s going to go around murdering people he should at least check in with his wife.”

“Fair,” Michael agreed. “You’re right about that. No secrets. That’s the only way to maintain a relationship. Everything has to be aboveboard.”

“So you’re thinking about a relationship?” It would be so much nicer to talk about Michael’s potential future than to sit here and worry that Henry wasn’t coming home at all.

He hesitated. “No. No, I’m not…I don’t know.”

“Is it Lucy?” She’d seen the way his eyes always followed the petite brunette. They’d had dinner at Trio a few days before, and Michael had been on his best behavior. He was often gruff, but he’d been quiet and kind to Lucy.

He frowned her way. “I am not giving you grist for the gossip mill. I know how small towns run.”

“I am not a gossip. Mostly,” she amended. “If you need to talk and you don’t want anyone to know, I am a locked vault.”

She’d been the keeper of many a secret.

“I kind of believe you. You’re an odd duck, Nell Flanders.”

“Hah, and there’s another one of Henry’s crimes. He could have picked any name. Literally any name in the vast sea of names and he picks one that makes me sound like I’m eight hundred years old. I’m not joking. I tell people online my name is Nell Flanders and they expect to meet their grandma.” She’d thought about it a lot. She’d started taking an anger inventory, and that one had shown up after the guns in the shop but before lying about how he knew where to plant a bomb in a fictional building so it exploded properly. “He could have picked something noble sounding. Like Windsor.”

“Then I would think you were an old British person,” Michael shot back.

“How about something pretty like DuVernay? He could have been Henry DuVernay.”

Michael’s head shook. “Old French person. Let’s face facts—the last name is not the only problem here. Nell is an old-lady name.”

“Rude. It’s a family name, according to my mother.” Of course her mother had told her the family member she’d been named after had been a Fae princess, so there was that. “It’s only old because people stopped using it. One day all old ladies will be named Britney or Ashley. I’m only saying, he could have picked a better name. And you can’t hole yourself up on the mountain forever.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Because at some point in time you’re going to get used to regular showers again.” She’d noticed he’d taken one every day since he’d gotten here, and he seemed to luxuriate in them. She hadn’t even complained about his water usage.

“Yeah, I do not miss my facilities. Or rather lack of facilities.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think it’s better I stay up on the mountain. There’s a lot of temptation in town. Well, only one, really, and she’s too young for me.”

Lucy worked at Trio, but Nell had known her for years. Her family lived outside of town, and there had always been trouble around her father. The Carsons were a large family, and Nell had taken food and clothes to them more than once. Lucy had gotten out, but she still worried about her siblings. “She’s an adult. She’s twenty-six years old. She’s not exactly a baby. How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

“That’s not bad at all. Henry’s ten years older than me.” She’d been so young and naïve when she’d met him. She’d thought she could change him. Had it all been an act or had she actually transformed the man?

“I’m not talking about numerical age. I’m talking about experience.”

That had her spine straightening. “You want a more experienced woman? That seems rude. You know a woman is more than the sum of her experience in bed.”

“Hey, don’t protest me,” Michael complained. “I wasn’t talking about sexual experience. I was talking about getting the shit kicked out of you and being damaged. Lucy is sweet. She doesn’t deserve to have to deal with a moody bastard who isn’t sure he can ever trust a woman again. I don’t know what I can offer her.”

“It’s not the Dark Ages,” Nell pointed out. “Women don’t tend to go into a marriage with the thought that all they’ll bring into the relationship is childbirth and housekeeping. Maybe she can offer you something. Like indoor plumbing.”

Michael ignored her completely. “Then there’s the kid who’s always around her. The walking venereal disease. He actually came out to my place and tried to warn me off her. Said she’s his. You want to protest someone, protest that asshole. Acted like he owned her.”

“Are you talking about Tyler Davis?” He was from Creede. He’d grown up with Lucy and River, and he often could be found around the women. He worked as an EMT and a nature guide with River’s company.

“Yeah. He marched right up to my place and told me to stay away. Like I was going to do something. I just think she’s nice.” He settled back.

That was such a lie, but she wasn’t going to call him on it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t taken to lying to herself.

She was worried about Henry, and not merely that he was going to get the itch to work with the CIA again.

She was worried that he might die and she would never know, that someone in the shadowy agency would decide she didn’t need to know what happened to her husband. She would wonder where he was for the rest of her life.

“Nell? Are you all right?”

Michael’s question brought her out of her dark thoughts.

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Even I know fine doesn’t mean fine. He’ll call. He’s probably having dinner or something. He’ll call before he goes to bed. It’s going to be okay.”

She sat back and prayed that he was right.

 

* * * *

 

Meanwhile in Mexico

 

The moonlight illuminated the field of bodies he’d left behind.

He was so not okay.

His wife would want to know how the mission went, and he would have to tell her that he’d fucked up the plan where he simply told the actor about his friend and then stepped away.

Josh Hunt hadn’t taken the bait. He’d gone through with the mission, and it had all gone to hell.

He’d taken care of it, and everyone who should have lived had, and most of the bad people died, but the agency definitely knew he was alive now since he’d taken some shots at the one who’d gotten away.

“Yes, Ezra’s at the hospital and Shane called Tag. He’s going to want to move fast, so be ready. Tag and Ten will be here in the morning.”

Henry moved back into the bushes as Kayla Summers walked out of the big house that he’d managed to turn into a morgue. He hadn’t talked to her much after he’d burst through the window and saved the day. He’d snuck off and taken some data he’d needed. He would go through it all later, but he couldn’t risk Kay taking it in.

She had a phone to her ear. Josh Hunt walked behind her.

That man was going to have miles of anxiety to use for his next movie role. He’d nearly died, but he’d been solid in a fight.

Kay looked good. She was as deadly as ever, but despite the horrors of the night, there was a joy about her. Likely because she was alive and in love. She glowed with love for that man and he for her. She had her happily ever after.

It might have cost him his.

“Yeah, we’ll be back at the set by morning. See you soon.” Kayla hung up the phone. “I made sure all the security camera footage was erased, but we need to move out. I don’t want us to get caught here. If anyone asks, we came to the party but you had to get back to the set for an early call.”

“Hey, baby, don’t worry about it. I know how to sell a scene,” Hunt said. “I wish Bishop hadn’t taken off. I’d liked to have talked to him, offered him a ride out.”

“Yes, me, too. I had a couple of questions for him, but I assure you he hasn’t taken off yet.” She dropped Hunt’s hand and put her hands on her hips. “John, I know you’re still here somewhere. If I had time, I would show you how good I’ve gotten at finding people. We will have this conversation at some point.”

He felt his lips quirk up. She remembered his moves. He stayed silent because they couldn’t talk here, and he wasn’t ready yet.

Like Nell wasn’t ready.

“I want to meet your wife,” she yelled.

Nell would be fascinated by Kay. Nell would want to be her friend, and she would listen to all of Kay’s crazy stories.

God, he missed his wife. He missed his life, but deep down he’d missed this too. Not the killing, but the puzzle of it all. That was what he missed. He’d gotten the data he needed. With the Jalisco cartel in ruins, he’d likely bought himself more time with at least one of the groups of people who wanted him dead.

“And thank you, John.” Kay took her boyfriend’s hand again and they walked away.

He took a deep breath and started to make his way to the car he’d hidden. He needed to get back to Mexico City before dawn. The police would view this entire clusterfuck as cartel related, and no one would think to look for Henry Flanders.

It was time to go home. But first, he had some old friends to see. They were still in trouble, and he might have something to give them.

Maybe a big group of mind-erased men would soften Nell up.

He pulled his cell and realized how late it was. He didn’t want to wake her. He sighed and started the long march back home.

He hoped he was welcome.