Chapter 7
SEVEN
So the idea of setting up a rogue shipping port through the sulfur mines could officially be categorized in the Bad Idea file.
Four hours later, and despite a shower, Doyle still harbored the rank odor of rotten egg as he sweated on the soccer field. He couldn’t believe he’d nearly gotten Tia killed. They’d practically dived out of the tunnel and into fresh air. He’d stood at the maw of the rock, hands on his knees, just shaking.
Worst-nightmare alert: being buried alive.
Maybe for Tia also, because she’d stared over at him with wide, terrified eyes.
They’d said nothing as they hiked down the hill, back to the monastery. Probably her deciding that she’d had enough of the near-death dates with Doyle.
He didn’t know how it ended up that way every time—but he’d never been so far from himself and what he’d expected of this mission than in the last few days.
He far preferred to play soccer with his kids—yes, his , because weirdly, as Lionel and Aliyah and Jamal spent time with their possible new families today, he couldn’t help but hang around, listen to their conversations, even want to join in as Jamal kicked a soccer ball with Hunter Jameson.
The boy’s laughter had found his soul, stirred it with a strange feeling.
Please, God, protect him. Let this be the right choice.
Now, as Doyle ran down the edge of the field, the coach of the blue team, shouting encouragement to the Hope House against Hope House players, today’s near cave-in seemed a thousand years away.
Especially since Taj had recruited Tia to help him coach the other team. Doyle kept glancing at her, with her dark hair back in a ponytail, wearing a pair of white shorts—wow, she had nice legs—and a red T-shirt. She seemed to have dived full-in with cheering on her team.
And he’d thought she didn’t even like soccer.
“C’mon, Gabriella, don’t let Jimmie get around you!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, hoping to deliver the message as the ball shot past her, only to have thirteen-year-old Jimmie Costas pick it up.
He kicked and the ball went wide of the goal, and good thing because Rohan had already let three goals shoot past him.
Doyle thought of Kemar and the many times he’d played goalkeeper. For a second, the memory of the boy’s broken expression as he pleaded for his brother tore through him.
Please, God, watch over him.
He’d been praying more lately, probably thanks to Tia and her Great Escapades, but...
He couldn’t seem to purge from his brain his words to her what felt like a century ago—but was actually only three days—about being called to be a missionary.
It was true, but the old calling felt dusty and stale. At least, until he’d heard himself speaking it aloud. Now he couldn’t seem to set it away again.
“Out!” Anita shouted, ruling for his team.
He called time-out and ran in, gathering the kids on the pitch.
“Okay, listen—” He put his hand on Rohan’s shoulder. The kid wore grass stains on his hands and knees, and a little blood where he’d scraped his chin. “You’re doing great out there. It’s a new position?—”
“I stink at this!” Rohan shook off his hand. “Put me back in at center, Mr. D. Let Elias play goalie.”
“He’s our best striker,” Doyle said, glancing at Elias, whose sweat drenched his shirt. “But... if you want to try?—”
“No. I gotta look good.” Elias gestured to the donors, some seated on a bench, others on folding chairs. “Just in case they want me.”
And right there, Doyle’s heart opened up and bled. None of the potential parents had spoken up for Elias. Or Rohan. Considered the kids too old, maybe, but teenagers longed for parents too.
Doyle barely refrained from reaching out to pull the kid into his embrace. Not here. He needed to tame his emotions. They got him into trouble.
What if the Jamesons and even the Marquezes and the Tuckers didn’t want the kids they’d made relationships with? Lionel had already started to pray for his “new mom and dad.” Doyle had set them all up for heartache.
“We can’t let the red team win,” Gabriella said. “I’ll be goalie.”
Oh. Last time he’d let her play that position, she’d gotten hit, smack in the face, nearly broken her nose. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t have anyone here cheering for me,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t have to be a star.”
“I’m cheering for you,” he said quietly, “and you’re a star to me.”
She looked away, her jaw suddenly tight.
Aw. Okay. He looked at the team, so many sweet, eager faces, big eyes, staring at him, and the moment just fell upon him.
Maybe he wasn’t so far from the guy he wanted to be. The guy Juliet had seen in him. The missionary calling he’d tried to forget.
“Okay, Lucia, you throw it in to Rohan, and, buddy, you bring it down, shoot it to Elias. We’re two goals down, and it’s time we showed everyone what you can do.” He put his hand in the center, a fist. “Blue on three!”
The team offered the cheer and ran out onto the field. Lucia ran to the corner, where Taj handed her the ball.
Doyle stepped back onto the sidelines and felt a gaze burning the back of his neck. That’s when he spotted Tia standing on the opposite side, arms akimbo and staring hard at him.
He lifted a hand in a wave and she nodded. Turned away.
But not before giving him the smallest of smiles.
And he was right back on the dance floor last night, his hand on the curve of her back, moving with the music, her arm around his shoulder. And she was staring up at him with those beautiful hazel-green eyes. Gold gathered near the irises, adding a spark of hidden treasure into her gaze, and with the citrus scent of her hair twining around him, it was all he could do not to fall right into her smile.
To pull her back into the shadows, maybe surrender to the spark, the what-if between them.
Or maybe he was the only one feeling it, but she had held on to him today, just as hard as he’d held on to her.
So, yes, partners.
But what if...
The day had turned gorgeous, with the blue of the ocean translucent and stretching into the horizon under an unblemished sky. A mountain breeze tumbled down, reaped the lush redolence of the jungle, and stirred it into the valley. He wore a baseball hat, sunglasses, a sleeveless shirt, and shorts and longed for a dip in the ocean.
Rosa had planned a cookout on the beach for tonight, and maybe, if the mood was right, he’d ask Tia for a walk through the salty waves. Take her hand.
And then what? They ran the orphanage together, the lives of these children between them, more than a job.
The sense of it thickened his throat, and his cheer hiccupped a second when, indeed, Elias kicked it in for a goal.
Bam!
Doyle looked over and noticed the Scotts cheering on Lucia, and huh, he hadn’t realized they were interested in adopting.
Or maybe hope had just taken hold of him.
Jaden kicked the ball out of the goal, and Jamal picked it up. The Jamesons hit their feet, and even Doyle recognized the effect it had on him. Jamal raced down the field, dodged Lucia and Elias, and kicked.
Gabriella caught it and fist-pumped, and Jamal’s shoulders slumped.
“It’s okay, son!” Hunter Jameson yelled. “You’ll get the next one.”
Son? Oh boy. He’d better tell Hunter to slow his roll. Still, maybe it boded well.
Gabriella kicked the ball out, and the game turned into a track meet, the two teams chasing each other down the field. When Rohan scored, the sun heavy on the horizon, even Doyle wanted to collapse on the grass.
A tie. The teams high-fived each other as the donors descended on the field.
From across the field, Stein stood with Declan, and his brother gave him a thumbs-up. Heat stirred in him, maybe because out of all his siblings, Stein had seen him before and during, and knew what it took to come back from devastation.
Rohan jogged over to him, tossed him the ball. “Thanks, Mr. D.”
Doyle high-fived him as the teen ran by, probably on his way to grab water, but the sight of Ethan Pine walking up to Tia caught his eye. He wore a pair of cargo pants, a linen shirt, a baseball hat, something determined in his eye.
Ethan spoke to her, and she shook her head, then started to walk away.
When Ethan grabbed her arm, Doyle couldn’t stop himself. He strode across the field, on his way to intercept.
She yanked her arm out of Ethan’s grip and rounded on him, so uh, maybe she didn’t need him. Still, he came up to them quickly enough to catch?—
“You trying to bring the mountain down on us?”
Ethan held up his hands. “Don’t overreact there, sweetheart. It was just a test to see if I could move the rock. And I could. I know the treasure is just beyond the cave-in—you need to trust me.”
“Are you serious? Ethan, the entire mine shook,” Doyle said sharply.
Ethan cocked his head. “Wait—were you up there?”
Tia’s mouth tightened.
Attagirl—
“I thought you said you wanted no part of this,” Ethan snapped. “What, are you going behind my back? Trying to find the treasure for yourself?”
She lifted her hands, a sort of surrender. “No. Of course not.”
“Listen, Miss Pepper, I know you think you own the place?—”
“I don’t think anything of the sort. We have enough problems without you trying to get us all killed!”
Silence fell over the field and everyone turned.
Now Ethan’s expression hardened. “Just stay out of my way and out of my tunnel.”
“You should probably remember that this is Hope House land, sir,” she said, her voice low. “And the city owns the mine, so my guess is the police might have some thoughts on you being up there shaking Mr. Cumbre de Luz.”
“We’ll see about that.” He strode away.
Doyle watched him go, squelching the urge to high-five her.
“There goes the hope of the X-ray machine,” she said quietly.
What? “Tia. You’re right. He could get people hurt. I don’t think the entire mountain would come down, but those sulfur mines have turned the rock into Swiss cheese. The wrong tunnel collapses, and...” He glanced at Ethan, back at her. “Maybe it is time to pull the plug, at least until we can assess the danger.”
Stein had walked up to him. “Pull the plug on what?”
“Ethan is a treasure hunter, and he’s looking for pirate gold in the sulfur mines.”
“Hey, coach!” This from Elias, who’d come up behind him. “Taj says he can score on you.”
Doyle looked at Taj, standing with the ball at the goal. “Does he now?”
“Go play with the kids,” Tia said. “I’ll get dinner figured out with Rosa.” She gave him a tight smile.
And he couldn’t stop himself. “It’s going to be okay, Tia. We’ll figure it out.”
Her gaze stayed on him, as if letting his words sink in. “Thanks. Codirector.” And then she gave him a real smile. “See you at the beach.”
As she walked away, all he thought was... maybe he could resurrect this day after all.
* * *
She should stop trying so hard.
Doyle’s words from last night kept circling Tia’s head as she watched Rosa serve up the pig that had been buried and roasted in the sand. A delicacy even for the native islanders.
Tia chopped lemons for the infused-water containers, and behind her, Anita and Raj set the long rough-hewn tables with plates and cups. An island feast, with orchids and passionflowers as centerpieces, the fragrance of the beach, the hush of waves in the background, and the glorious sunset for entertainment. The perfect, right ending to this fundraiser week.
Despite all the chaos.
And despite the altercation with Ethan today. There went that donation. But maybe they didn’t need him. With the Scotts’ and the Tuckers’ promises, as well as a few others, they just might have enough to replace their equipment. And Declan’s private security team had arrived this afternoon, right after the game—three men who seemed like the types who could protect the clinic. At least until Sebold and his ilk were stopped.
Which apparently Declan was also working on, hopefully with the local police force. She’d heard a little of the conversation between Stein and Declan and the three security guys from an outfit in Minnesota. The very plain Jones, Inc. security team, according to their T-shirts.
So, yes, maybe she could calm down. Stop trying to fix all the problems herself. Work with her, ahem, codirector.
She looked at him now, talking with the Jamesons, smiling, nodding. Maybe his brilliant idea had worked out, at least for a few of the kids so far. They would still have to have meetings with their Hope House social worker and confirm the home studies done on the families. And then meet before a judge in Mariposa.
But perhaps these children really could find homes.
She wanted to hug Doyle for that.
Okay, more than hug, probably. Because ever since he’d pulled her out of that cave, her heart pounding through her chest, she’d wanted to throw herself into his arms and...
Oh boy.
But Penny’s story about Doyle’s dead fiancée had sort of snuck inside that thought, and having her own dead sort-of fiancé, it felt a little too much like maybe she might tread on sacred ground.
Tia had broken up with her fiancé, Edward, before his murder, but Doyle had lost his on the morning of their happy ever after.
No, Tia couldn’t step into the shadow of what could have been and compete with a ghost.
So just partners, then. She would have to be okay with that.
Yep.
Uh-huh.
Doyle walked away from the Jamesons and ran to retrieve a soccer ball that went into the surf after a hard kick from one of the Parnell twins, Royce and Remy, who laughed as Jane and Perez Marquez played with them.
Lucia had made friends with the Scotts, who built a sandcastle with her. And Aliyah had found a friend in Jacey Tucker and her husband.
Doyle splashed back, having gotten his shorts wet as he retrieved the ball. He tossed the ball to Remy, who headed it and fell onto the sand, laughing.
Such a sweet sound, and along with the smells of barbecue pork and campfire, and the wash of the waves on the shore, the sun turning the foamy tops to fire, this was a beautiful evening.
“It’ll all work out.”
She didn’t know how, but she ached to believe Doyle’s words.
As if he knew her thoughts, Doyle walked up to her. “Beautiful night.”
She nodded.
“Dinner smells amazing. Was the pig your idea?”
She glanced up at him. “I watched it done at a resort our family stayed at and always wanted to do it. Rosa said she knew how, so... I said, let’s roast a pig.”
“Brilliant,” he said softly.
Here went nothing—“You were right about my trying so hard, Doyle. I just... I just really wanted to know that I could do this without the safety net of the Pepper purse, so to speak.” She sighed.
“I think you did exactly that. Your presentation last night hit all the right notes, and frankly, the ask was perfect. Hopefully you raised enough for operating expenses for the entire year, plus new equipment for the clinic, even if Ethan doesn’t donate.” He reached for a glass of lemonade. “One thing I learned when I was planning to be a missionary—there are people who go and people who send. And they send because they want to invest in something they can’t do themselves. Or aren’t called to do. You gave these donors an opportunity to be more than they are, do more than they could do. It’s a gift to them. And if the Pepper family—or Declan—had come to the rescue, then they would have missed out on that.” He put a hand on her shoulder. A warm, albeit a little roughened, hand. “I’m privileged to work with you.”
His touch shot warmth all the way through her body, to her painted toes. She met his eyes, and his gaze found hers, lingered.
Her heart thundered.
“I’m glad to see you two getting along, finally.” Declan and Austen had come up behind them. He wore a pair of jeans and a short-sleeve shirt, flip-flops.
Doyle’s gorgeous sister had braided her hair into a fat, loose weave, wore a flowing linen dress, and was also in flip-flops. She leaned on Doyle’s shoulder.
He broke Tia’s gaze and put his arm around his sister.
Declan picked up a lemonade. “I know I sort of pulled a fast one on you, and that wasn’t my intent. Thank you for working it out.”
Austen stepped away from Doyle. “When you’re ready to teach these kids how to dive, call me.”
“You leaving?”
“Tomorrow.” Funny, but she looked at Declan when she said it, then away, to the ocean. “I have sharks who need me.”
Tia laughed, but Doyle turned to her. “She’s serious. She keeps track of the shark population in the Keys. She’s like... the shark whisperer.”
“I’m not, actually?—”
“She is,” Stein said, joining them. “She looks right at them, and then when they come close she just guides them away, like they’re dogs coming to play.”
“They are like dogs. They’re curious, not vicious. Except they use their mouths to investigate—instead of their noses.”
“And leave people without arms as they discover we’re not seals,” Stein said with a shiver.
“But, you are a SEAL,” Austen said, winking.
“Oh, you’re cute.” He shook his head. “And I’m not anymore.”
“Once a SEAL, always a SEAL, Stein.” The voice came from outside their conversation.
Tia looked over as one of the Jones, Inc. guys walked up. Short brown hair, built, he wore a gun on his hip, a knife on his leg, and oh boy.
“I don’t love the kids seeing you carrying a gun,” Tia said. “It could remind them too much of Sebold.”
He nodded. “I understand, ma’am. I’ll try and keep it hidden.” Then he turned to Doyle. “You’re Stein’s kid brother?”
Doyle nodded.
“North Gunderson. Your cousin Ranger is on our team. He’s working with the local police on a strategy to apprehend the Sebold crew.”
“Ranger is here?”
North nodded. “Says he’ll stop in tonight.” He turned back to Tia. “I came to tell you that we’ve finished installing the cameras around the perimeter and are working on the door sensors. If anyone enters the clinic or the compound, an alarm will sound.”
“Thank you, North,” she said, her gaze on his gun, back on him.
He crossed his hands in front of him. Looked at Declan. “I’d like to bring some grub up to Skeet and West if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely. We’re about ready to eat,” Declan said. “I think that’s what Rosa’s wild gesturing is all about.”
Tia turned and spotted Rosa, indeed calling everyone in. She dropped the last of the lemons into the water and capped the container. Then she headed over to the group.
Declan stepped forward. “I want to thank you all for coming to Mariposa for this amazing event. And thank you for your generosity to Hope House. I know the children as well as the staff and I join you in our gratitude and appreciation. I’d like to say a prayer for the dinner.”
He bowed his head, and his prayer seemed genuine and heartfelt.
“It’ll all work out.”
Yes, Doyle. I believe you .
The kids filled their plates and sat down between the adults at the long table. Most of them used their manners, although Tia did have to give a couple of the younger kids a long look for eating with their fingers. As she sat at the table, the sun sent a golden trail over the water, its last wink before darkness.
After dinner, Taj got out his guitar and started to sing, the kids hunkering down around a beach fire, the stars blinking as if in audience. Doyle slipped up behind Tia. “Care to walk?”
She turned and he looked perfectly dangerous, with the wind tousling his hair, his eyes shiny against the flames, smelling of the surf and the night.
“Mm-hmm,” she said and walked after him, barefoot on the smooth, wave-swept sand.
“I think it’s only fair that I tell you about Juliet.”
She nearly stopped. But she took a breath. “Juliet?”
“My fiancée.”
Right. “You don’t have to, Doyle. It’s none of my business.”
He’d folded his arms and now bumped against her, maybe intentionally, as he said softly, “I want to. I think it’s... important for you to know.”
Huh.
Their feet indented the soft, cool sand as the ocean waves brushed the shoreline.
“We were high-school sweethearts. Met in the sixth grade. Her family were missionaries in the Philippines, and they decided to move home so their daughter could attend the upper grades in the States. We had an instant... something. I don’t know—she was pretty and laughed easily. I used to draw pictures—funny ones of the kids in our class—and she said they were brilliant.” His voice softened then. “Doesn’t hurt for a pretty girl to call you brilliant as a twelve-year-old. I lost my heart then. We wrote notes to each other and sometimes waited for each other in the lunchroom, but her parents—and mine—wouldn’t let us date until we were sixteen. Even that might have been too young, because I wanted to propose on our second date. We managed to make it to eighteen without getting in over our heads, and I proposed the day after graduation. With a ring.”
“Wow.”
“She turned me down.”
Tia glanced at him. “No.”
“She cried the entire time. Her father had somehow convinced her that she should wait until she went to college, to date other men. I wanted to murder him. We broke up for the summer, and I was angry. I went to college ready to forget her.”
“But you can’t forget your true love.”
“Not a chance.” He’d loosed his arms and now walked easily. The waves curled over their feet, foamy and cool. “She started dating a guy, however, and I nearly lost my mind. Good thing we were at different schools. I doubled up my classes, and with the extra credits I got in high school, I graduated in two years. Immediately took my MCATs and got into the University of Minnesota’s school of medicine.”
“So you could be a doctor.”
“No. So I could win her back. See, I knew she wanted to be a missionary, and she said that she wanted to go back as a nurse, and I thought...”
“It was a beautiful plan.”
He stopped. “It worked too. She came home over Christmas, called me, and told me she’d broken it off with the other guy. We were back together by New Year’s. And I had life planned out. I proposed the minute I graduated from undergrad, and she pushed off the wedding until after she graduated too. And then until I finished my internship. Longest three years of my life. I passed my initial exam for my medical license and had gotten an offer to start residency that summer at the University of Minnesota. So we scheduled the wedding for Thanksgiving.”
He’d parked himself facing the ocean, staring out at the night, his hands in his pockets, the wind pressing his shirt against his body. Something in his gaze seemed to search the horizon. “It was perfect. Everything. My life... planned out all the way to the happy ending. And then...” He sighed, ran his hand across his mouth. “She didn’t show up for the wedding.”
Tia had stopped too, of course, and now stood a little away, watching him in the glow of the moonlight. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then took a breath. His voice softened.
“I stood there at the front of the church, waiting. Feeling like an idiot. And fearing that she’d changed her mind, and all the time, something gnawed inside me like... something wasn’t right. It just kept growing, even as I stood there.” He sighed. “I should have listened to my gut. I even called her, but it went to voice mail. I thought, I hoped she was just running late. Twenty minutes went by, and I wasn’t the only one worried. I went looking for her. Stein went with me, and we drove out to her house. It had snowed the night before. The roads were glass. We found the accident on a country road. A truck had hit the limo head-on. The limo went off an embankment and was half submerged in a lake. The limo driver was dead, and she and her dad were trapped—their doors locked from the front. Her dad had a severe head injury and was in shock. She told me to get him out first.”
He looked over at Tia. “I did. Stein and I pulled him out, and by then, EMS was arriving and I went back for Juliet. We’d jostled the car enough that it started to settle in the water, and it was almost completely submerged by the time I got there. That’s when I realized that she’d been caught by a piece of the door, speared into her back. She couldn’t get free—the car pulling her under.” He took a breath. “If I got her free, she’d bleed out—and if I didn’t, she’d drown.”
Tia wanted to reach out, to touch him, but he had closed his eyes as if replaying it, and she couldn’t intrude. Her throat burned, her eyes hot.
“I didn’t know what to do. And then the car went under and I just... I just panicked. I yanked her free and she went limp. I got her out, but the dress—it dragged us both under. If it hadn’t been for Stein...” He opened his eyes, glanced at her, then away, shaking his head. “I nearly drowned too. By the time we got her to shore, we had to do CPR. But... she’d already bled out so much... She died in the snow.”
He wiped a finger across his cheek. “The last thing she said to me was to keep following the call.” He lifted a shoulder. “Hard to do when your entire life has been shattered.”
And now Tia did touch him, just lightly, on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, shrugged. “Five years. Seems like I should be over it by now.”
“Over losing your true love? Please. You don’t get over grief. You might learn to get back up faster after it hits you, but you don’t get over losing someone. You just bear it better.”
He nodded. “It took me the better part of a year to even get back up. And maybe I am bearing it better.” He met her eyes then. “I came here to... to start over. Maybe try to hear that calling again.”
The waves lapped between them, his gaze again in hers.
“I came here to start over too,” she said. “Maybe stop listening to my fears.”
He took a step toward her, lifted his hand, ran his fingertips across her face, then pushed her hair behind her ears. He smelled of sand and surf and coconut oil and maybe exotic, impulsive fresh starts. “Juliet will always be with me. But... maybe this is a good place to start over.” He ran his hand behind her neck, and her skin tingled under his touch. “Sunshine, beach, ocean, a little near-terror every day?”
She laughed then, and one side of his mouth hitched up. Oh, he was a beautiful man, with an early-evening scrub of whiskers, those eyes, now a dark blue, hued with something...
Oh . He took a step closer, caught her face with his other hand.
Well, then. She put a yes into her eyes, her expression, then touched the hollow of his neck. “Maybe we try to cut down on the terror.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, and lowered his head.
Her lips parted.
“Mr. D!”
He jerked up at the voice, took a breath, then turned.
A couple boys ran up the beach toward them in the darkness. Elias and Jamal, out of breathing hard.
“What’s going on?”
“I tried to stop them—” This from Jamal, who seemed almost in tears. “But they went anyway.”
Doyle put his hands on Jamal’s shoulders. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“It’s Rohan. And Gabriella and Jaden—they went looking for the treasure.”
He stilled, and Tia caught her breath. Then she bent and met Jamal’s eyes. “Where did they go?”
He turned, pointed back toward the monastery, up the mountain. “The caves.”
“What do you mean, the caves ?” Doyle said, reaching out. He grabbed her hand, like... like they might be a team.
“They heard that man talking today at the game, about the treasure being in the cave,” Elias said. “They snuck out at dinner...” He swallowed, put his arms around himself. “There are ghosts in those caves.”
Tia wanted to roll her eyes.
“You can smell them—the dead bodies,” said Elias, his eyes wide.
Dead bodies?
“Okay, we’ll find them, Elias,” she said, pulling him into a side hug. Then she looked at Doyle.
He nodded. “Yes. Yes we will.”
* * *
If he were planning a heist, tonight would be the night.
And of course, Stein couldn’t get that out of his head as he stood at the perimeter of the tented eating area, watching his boss mingle with the donors. He had no appetite, despite the aroma of roasted pork that seasoned the air.
A gorgeous night for a picnic, and frankly, he didn’t hate watching his brother Doyle play soccer on the beach with the kids. Doyle was smiling again, as if he’d finally shaken free of the grief.
Sorrow had a stranglehold on his brother, and maybe all this sunshine and sand and—okay, Tia, probably—had helped him breathe again.
Doyle had walked away with her after dinner, and it seemed the two were having a serious chat, given the way his little brother stood with his arms akimbo, watching the ocean.
Good.
He sort of wished he’d found the same full breath, but ever since he’d discovered the underground channel—and the fact that someone had broken into the vault—a terrible darkness had filled his chest.
Phoenix had found them.
He hadn’t seen anyone in the darkness of the cavern, but he’d felt eyes on him, just like he had nights ago on the balcony.
She was here, casing Declan’s place. He knew it in his bones.
“Are you going to eat?” This from North, one of the Jones, Inc. guys Declan had hired after Stein made a couple calls. Nice guy, former quiet professional who’d parlayed his years in the military into a private security gig. He’d brought food up to his cohorts watching the orphanage and returned to the beach. “I’ll keep an eye on your man.”
Stein shook his head. “Not hungry.”
North nodded, paused. “You were in the Krakow ambush. We heard about that—good to see you landed back on your feet.”
Sorta. “Thanks.” Stein watched as Declan moved around the tented area, talking to donors.
“Decided to leave the teams, though,” North said. “That’s a tough decision.”
Stein lifted a shoulder. “Medical separation.” He could finally say it without a trench digging through him. “Knees.”
“Right. Sweet gig you landed, working for Declan. Good guy,” said North. “Seems to really care about these kids.”
“He’s the real deal,” Stein said, lifting his chin to Declan as the man looked over at him. All good, sir.
“Not a lot of those left,” North said. “How long you been working for him?”
“A few months,” Stein answered. “Before that I was a dive instructor in St. Kitts.”
“That’s a hard gig, for sure. I can see why you gave it up.” He winked.
Stein grinned. “Reasons.”
North nodded. “If you ever want to join a team again, Hamilton Jones could probably find a place for you on Jones, Inc.”
Stein glanced at North, then past him to the shore, where the kids now hung out around a bonfire. A family memory nudged him, the many bonfires his dad had made on the beach back at the King’s Inn in Minnesota every summer. He missed those.
“Maybe. For now, I’m into this with Declan.”
Speaking of, the man walked over to them. Greeted North with a handshake. “Thanks for heading down to the islands.”
“Anything to get a tan, sir,” North said, and moved away to stand on the beach.
Declan turned to Stein. “You all right? The dive accident still wired up inside you?”
Stein shook his head. “Thinking about the break-in during the dinner.”
“You still think someone cased my vault? There was nothing on the video screen.”
“No. But we’d definitely been hacked. And someone opened the door to the smugglers’ tunnel.” He kept his voice low. “I think it’s the same woman who stole your blood samples in Barcelona.”
Declan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Avery.”
“Not her real name, but yes.”
Declan eyed him. “You know her?”
Stein’s jaw tightened. He probably should have mentioned this before, but—“I think so.”
Declan’s eyebrow rose.
“I think she was... I think we met in Poland.”
“Where you got injured?”
“Yes. It was... It’s a long story.”
Declan said nothing, watching the kids throw sticks into the bonfire, the breeze lifting his dark hair.
Okay then. “We were there to exfil a Ukrainian asset who had developed a cyber-encryption program,” Stein said. “The Ukrainian embassy had been taken by the Russians and we’d infiltrated, but our team got separated. I was pinned down with the target, and suddenly this woman appeared. She’d been sent in by her organization to do the same thing.”
“Her organization?”
“It’s called the Black Swans. Female-only operative group that specializes in undercover work and information heists. International, but mostly working in Europe. They were created by a former CIA agent, designed to fight terrorism before it birthed onto the world stage. I don’t know what she wanted with our target, but she’d been hiding inside the embassy for a couple days and learned their internal escape system.”
“Internal—”
“The passages behind the walls, sir. Not unlike your secret, um, smugglers’ route.”
Declan nodded.
“We worked together to get out, and she got us to their safe house. The Russian CObrA team, who’d taken the embassy, was searching the city for us.”
“CObrA?”
“Like our CIA Special Operations Group. Affiliated with the FSB, they do intelligence-gathering missions behind enemy lines.”
“And they needed this guy for their communications.”
“Yes. So Phoenix—at least, that’s what she called herself—and I had to work together trying to figure out how to get Luis to safety.” He didn’t let himself linger there—but wow, had she played him. “We finally got ahold of my team and set up a meet. She agreed to hand off Luis.” He folded his arms. “I bought it. But what she’d done was set us up. We walked into an ambush. A backpack bomb went off in the café.”
“Casualties?”
“Yes. I was...”
“Seriously injured.”
“My knees were shattered—had to get them replaced, learn to walk again.” His mouth pinched. “For a long time, I thought she’d died in the blast. But... that was her, in Barcelona.”
“You’re sure?”
He drew in a breath. Sometimes he could still hear her laughter, taste her kiss on his lips, the tug on his heart to believe. Yeah, so well played. “Yes, sir.”
“And she staged the accident in Barcelona?”
“Seems like her MO.”
He nodded. “To get my blood. To get into my vault.”
“That’s my theory.”
“And now she’s followed us here?”
“I think she broke into the vault area and escaped into the tunnel.”
Declan’s mouth made a grim line.
“What is she after, sir?”
“I don’t know.” Declan glanced up at the house.
And Stein read his mind. “If I were going to try to rob you, it would be tonight, when everyone is away.”
“Zeus and the team are there.”
“They don’t know about the smugglers’ tunnel,” he said. “Or do they?”
“Zeus does, but the rest are locals. He decided to keep them need-to-know.”
Stein held up his hand. “I get it.” He directed his attention to Declan’s house too, the lights glowing around the perimeter, a beacon on the hill. “Maybe...”
“Yes. Go.”
He turned to Declan. “But, sir?—”
“I’m fine here, Stein. We have the Jones, Inc. guys, and if you’re right, she’s not after me but my program.”
His gut said the same thing. “Leave it with me, sir. Enjoy your evening.”
Declan nodded. “Thank you, Stein.”
Stein headed for the four-wheeler on the beach. This time, Phoenix, I’m onto your game.
Except, even as he drove, she walked into his memory and tugged him back to the safe house three years ago in Poland. To the night pressing into the windows. She came into the office, her gaze on the screens attached to the office wall, having just checked on Luis.
Stein had been trying to contact his team, to no avail.
“We can’t stay here.” She’d set a container of ramen noodles on the desk. “I made us dinner. I’d prefer some fresh pierogies, but I don’t want to go back out.” She’d taken off her tactical gear, wearing only a tank and a pair of camo pants.
He spotted the poached egg, the cheese and milk. “You doctored it.”
“Black Swan special. I stocked the fridge two days ago.” She sat in the other chair, blowing on her noodles.
“So that’s your organization. The Black Swans.”
She lifted the bowl. “You’d have figured it out once you got back to command. Our directors run in intersecting circles.”
“Not enough to heads-me-up on your gig.” He tasted the ramen. Good. He made an appreciative sound. She smiled, and maybe he was tired, his guard down, but it hit him, a full-on punch: She was really pretty. Short dark hair, big green eyes. Petite but sturdy.
“Your accent?—”
“Midwestern.” She watched the screens. “It’s quiet. I’ll take first watch. You get some shut-eye.”
Huh. Right.
“I need to figure out our next move.”
“Not without me.” He put down the noodles. “That’s my asset.”
She raised a dark eyebrow, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “We’ll see, there, Frogman.”
Frogman.
It was the way she said it then, and later, that stayed with him, etched inside.
“The name is Steinbeck,” he’d said, getting up.
“East of Eden.”
“Yes.”
“The story of the fight between good and evil.” She set down her soup bowl, now empty. “And the idea that maybe it’s not quite so black and white.” She cocked her head and met his gaze. Smiled.
And that’s when he began to wonder.
Yeah, so played.
Now he motored up to Declan’s estate and pressed in the code. The gate opened and he pulled in, parked the four-wheeler, and headed inside to the security office, nodding to Ryland on the way in.
Zeus stood arms akimbo as Stein walked into the dark room. The man chewed on a toothpick. Dark-skinned and built like a tank, Zeus ran the small security crew with a tight fist. Former SBS in Great Britian, he’d set up the security system for Declan when he’d first built the fortress.
“Any movement in the vault?”
Zeus glanced over at him. “No. Why?”
“A feeling.” He leaned toward the vault picture. The feed indicated it was live.
“No attempts to hack it?”
“We found the code, set up an alert.” Zeus glanced at him. “Milton set it up.”
Milton, the white-hat hacker imported from Germany who’d spotted the hack. Too late, but soon enough for them to shut down anything that Phoenix might have tried to take.
Maybe it was a one-and-done attempt.
No. His gut still said she’d try again. Because he knew her.
Knew the lengths she’d go to in order to complete her mission.
And now acid pooled in his chest.
He braced a hand on the screen, still staring, something feeling not... Wait— “See this light?” He pointed to the bottom of the screen, the slightest hue. It disappeared after a second.
Zeus leaned in. “I don’t know?—”
“Watch.”
It appeared again, almost a flash, before vanishing. “That’s the lift opening a second before the feed is replaced.”
Zeus picked up his walkie. “Milton. I need you in the control room.”
Static.
He tried again.
Nothing.
“I’m going down there,” Stein said. “You should be able to see me.”
Zeus nodded, and Stein exited the office, striding across the wing to the main lodging. He ran his card—with the new code—over the elevator pad and called it. It arrived... from below.
Aw...
He stepped into the opening and thumbed the button for the lower floor, hit it again and a third time, just... because.
And also just because, he took his gun from its shoulder holster. Please, please let her not be there ? —
The lift opened.
Empty. He walked out into the room, looked at the security pad. The lights glowed green, the locks secure.
“Let me know when you arrive.” Zeus, through the walkie.
Oh no. He turned and looked at the cameras. Keyed the mic. “You don’t see me?”
“Negative.”
His heart sank as he stalked back to the lift. “We’re too late,” he said. “She was already here.”