Chapter 12
In bed, Harbinger held her longer than he should have. Having her in his arms fed something so deep in his soul he couldn’t let her go for over an hour. He hadn’t lied to her; he’d only existed in the slimmest margins of life when she was gone. His love for her surpassed anything he’d ever known.
The first time they’d made love, he’d felt the shift. The day he told her he loved her, and she admitted to the same feeling, the change in him had been immediate, intense, epic in every way. He was a different person with her by his side. Without her, he was a shell. After he’d exhausted his ways to find her, he’d become hollow. His communications with his team had dropped to the bare minimum to keep them out of his life. He let his training go. He drank too much and walked the streets of Paris at night looking for a fight. He’d found more than one. He was a flaming aircraft en route to a crash landing. But Demos had showed up at his door because Smoke was worried about him.
“What in the hell are you doing, boy?” Demos pushed his way into the apartment. “God, it stinks in here.” He walked to the window and opened it. “Go take a shower, then we’re going to have a moment.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Like hell you are.” Demos sat down on the couch, and Spike jumped up to inspect the newcomer.
“Why are you here?” Harbinger flopped into the chair across from Demos.
“Smoke called me. You’ve had long enough. Time to find a way to shake off what happened and get your ass back to the man you are. This is a defining moment, boy. This is where you suck it up and either deal with what happened or bury it so far down you’ll bleed if you think about it again.”
“I’m already bleeding.”
“Because you have it in your hand, and you keep searching for an answer. Sometimes in life there aren’t any answers. Love is amazing, and it sucks, too. You got the suckage end right now. Deal. With. It.”
“Thanks for the support.”
“You’ve had support for the last how many months? This stops, or you’re out.”
Harbinger’s gut clenched, and he blinked in confusion. Out? Out meant out of Guardian. Out of the team. Out of his fucking purpose in life. “Out?”
“You heard me. You’re an elite assassin. You got your ass kicked by a woman you loved. It happens. You’ve had time to deal with it on your own. Either pick yourself up and move forward with help from our shrinks, or you’re out.”
Harbinger rubbed his face. Damn, had it come to that? He looked around his apartment. The filth had built layer upon layer because he didn’t want his housekeeper to come inside. She left his groceries at the doorstep every week. He swallowed hard. “Define out.”
“I don’t have to. You know what out means. If you have any hope of meeting that woman in the future or maybe having another reason to fall in love, you need to get your shit in order. Now, go take a shower and think about the answer. Either yes, you’re in, or no, you’re out. I won’t ask again.”
Harbinger stood up. “I’m in.” He walked to the shower and drew a deep breath. The line had been drawn. He took off his clothes and turned on the water. Getting into the shower, he grabbed the bar of soap and said out loud, “Maybe that’s what you needed all along. Someone to come kick your ass out of this funk.”
As he looked downat her sleeping beside him, he thanked God she was in his arms and alive. All those empty places were filled once again. Harbinger leaned down and kissed her forehead before sliding out of the bed. He opened the bedroom door, grabbed the bag sitting beside it, and got dressed. He placed Ysabel’s clothes on the chair beside the bed before taking one more look at the woman he loved, and then he headed out to find Val.
Val glanced over at him from where she sat in the front room. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, thanks. She’s sleeping.” Harbinger glanced around the room. “Smith?”
“I haven’t heard from him. Neither has Guardian.” Val’s foot tapped the air restlessly. “She has some of the same features as Smith. The eyebrows and cheekbones.”
“She does now that I think about it. Look, I’m not leaving him down there alone. I’m going back down.” Harbinger turned around to find his boots, locating them by the door.
“No, you don’t know where he is. He’s a smart man. He’s a fighter,” Val said, probably as much to reassure herself as him.
“I’ve seen what he’s capable of, true.” Harbinger sat down on the couch with his boots. “That message he sent from that train when I was in Mongolia to meet the two of you, that was … loud.”
Val smiled sadly before leaning forward and looking directly at him. “I don’t know why, but I’ve got this feeling something’s wrong.”
Harbinger could see the worry in her eyes. He knew that fear and didn’t want his friend to suffer from it. “I’ll go back down. I know where we came up. Call Con and see if he can get another guide. If not, I’ll mark my way.”
Val stood up. “And if he comes out while you’re down there?”
“Then we know he’s safe. I’ll mark time and come back up every three hours.” Harbinger lifted one of his wet boots to put it on.
“He should be okay …” Val let the thought trail off. “Wait.” Val froze and reached for her ear. Her eyes widened. “Go ahead.” She jumped, then snapped, “Where? How bad? I’m heading there now. Yeah, like I care.”
“What is it?” Harbinger had taken out his earpiece before stepping into the shower. He wanted his time with Ysabel to be private.
“Smith was shot. He’s on the way to the hospital.” Val jogged through the house and grabbed her purse. Shoving her hand in, she came out with an automatic. She slid the slide back, checked the chamber, and dropped it back into her purse. “I’ll call from the hospital.”
“Make sure you tell Con so he can erase any pictures of you.” Harbinger stopped her. “Val, what’s his status?”
“Con knows. Jewell said Smith was pissed, and he wanted me to stay here.”
“He didn’t think that would work, did he?” Harbinger asked as she marched to the door.
“Probably, he gets delusions sometimes. I’ll call with updates.” Val was gone in the next instant.
Harbinger dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling. Fuck, this day had been so damn long and full of surprises, good and bad. He made his way back down to the room he and Ysabel were using and quietly retrieved his earpiece. As he went into the kitchen, he activated the device. “Harbinger to CCS.” There were a few clicks on the device.
“Go,” Jewell said.
“Any updates on Smith?”
“I’m getting pieces of information, but he has people around him and can’t speak freely. The police were called because he was shot. The guide called the medics before he disappeared with someone named Louis. The medics called the cops. Smith is not happy.”
“The police are on scene?”
Con joined the conversation. “No, they’re responding to the hospital. Evidently, the injury took priority over any questioning.”
“Do we have a medical status?”
“From what we’re hearing, it isn’t good,” Con said. “My French is a bit rusty, but the medics are worried. An entry wound and no exit. They keep asking Smith how he was shot. The guy is smart. He said it was a mugging, but, dude, he’s not being a good patient.”
“Fuck,” Harbinger hissed.
“I’ve got our Guardian doctor heading that way,” Jewell said. “Hold on, the big guys are going to join the conversation.”
“Status on Smith?” He recognized Archangel’s voice.
“Unknown. We believe a chest wound. No exit wound. We’re getting piecemeal information. He’s not alone.”
“I’m fine,” Smith snarled. “Probably a fucking ricochet.”
“You don’t know that,” Harbinger snapped back. “Let them take care of you. Val is on her way.”
“Fuck.” Smith made a pathetic sound. “Is she pissed?”
“Oh, yeah,” Harbinger answered him. “But not at you.”
“Smith, we’re putting you in listen mode. You let them do whatever they need. We’ll handle the police.” That was Fury.
“Good,” he said. “The injury isn’t bad. I can feel the bullet. Give me forceps, and I’ll pull the fucker out.”
“Listen mode on Smith’s earpiece is engaged,” Jewell reported.
“That fucker Pierre was involved in this.” Fury’s growl filled the connection.
“We don’t know that,” Archangel fired back.
“We would if you could get us permission to interrogate the son of a bitch,” Fury returned the volley.
Archangel shut Fury down immediately. “Chill the fuck out. I have permission. H, you’ll do the questioning.”
“I can’t leave Ysabel alone.” Harbinger stared down the hallway to where she slept.
“Not asking you to. We have her safe now, and Smith will be released to the care of our doctor. Pierre’s questioning can wait until tomorrow. Get him to come to you at your apartment. I want our team to hear what that bastard says, and from what you reported, they’ll search and find your earpiece if you go to his facility.”
Harbinger sat down and closed his eyes. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to put Ysabel in harm”s way again today.
Archangel sighed. “Okay, bring me up to date.”
“There have been no pictures of proof of life sent to the cell, so if Pierre asked for it, he should be getting worried.” Con dropped that bit of information.
“Now that we have the switchboard monitored and his cell cloned, we’ll know if he gets antsy. If he doesn’t, it makes him look even guiltier,” Jewell added.
“What about locations he could use to steal the crypto?” Archangel inquired. “I don’t see the connection between this theft and Ysabel’s disappearance.”
Con snorted, “Holding his daughter hostage is a big incentive, boss man.”
“True, but Abrasha could go to people in Russia to have this crypto stolen. Some of the best hackers are in Russia and China. Why Pierre? Why that specific amount?”
The same questions had been going around in Harbinger’s mind, but it also reminded him of something. “I have some new information.”
“Go,” Fury directed.
“I believe Ysabel had possession of the documents stolen from Abrasha all along. Her mother gave her a ring, which was in the document envelope. She didn’t tell her father about the ring, afraid he’d tell her she couldn’t have it.”
“And?” Fury asked.
“And I can see a flat in the stone.”
“Laser etching?” Jewell asked.
“I believe so,” Harbinger replied. “We’ll need some equipment, but, Con, you can find a way to see what’s on the ring?”
“I can do that,” Con readily agreed. “Probably. I’ve never done it before, but it should be straightforward.”
Jewell asked, “What do you need? I can ship it to you if necessary.”
“I’ll let you know. I’m learning about it now,” Con answered, and Harbinger could hear the tapping of keyboards as they spoke.
Con came on the line again. “Hold on—Val’s approaching the hospital. I need to scramble some cameras. I’ll be back.”
“Pierre holds information we need. Abrasha Molchalin is officially a person of interest for the Counsel because of his part in the failed invasion of Switzerland.” Archangel continued, “H, the interrogation is yours. Get us that information.”
“I understand.” Harbinger would gladly shove bamboo shards under that fucker’s fingernails if it would get them answers about who had taken Ysabel and why.
“Taty said her contacts in the Bratva refused to talk about Molchalin,” Fury interjected. “So, that was no help.”
“Jewell, keep me updated on Smith. Fury, call me now. Archangel is clear.”
“Ouch, someone is going to get slapped.” Con chuckled.
“Keep that shit up, and it’ll be you,” Fury growled. “The Rose is clear.”
“You keep poking, my brother, and all the moms in the world won’t be able to help you,” Harbinger said.
“I know how far I can push him, but I’ll back off. Give me some time to research how to read laser etching.”
“You have until morning. I’ll bring the ring over before I call Pierre and tell him to meet me.” He hoped Smith wasn’t injured too badly and Val would be back by then to watch Ysabel. Harbinger went into the kitchen, opened a bottle of Val’s wine, and fixed himself something to eat. While he ate, he made a tray for Ysabel. Fruit, fresh baguette, cheese, sliced meat, and a tall glass of water. He put another wine glass on the tray and the bottle he’d opened. Glancing at his watch, he tapped his earpiece. “Con, any update on Smith?”
“Val said the doctors are concerned because the bullet at the surface is only a fraction of the slug. It could be a ricochet, or the bullet fractured, and parts of it went deeper. Smith is heading to radiology to ensure there isn’t something else.”
“All right. I’m going to listen mode.” Harbinger didn’t wait for a reply but tapped his earpiece three times and heard the distinct beep that meant he could listen when someone reached out to him, but no one would hear what he and Ysabel said to each other.
Harbinger balanced the tray in one hand and opened the bedroom door with the other. The sun was setting, and the room was cast in a golden hue. He put the tray on the bedside table and lay down facing Ysabel. He used the ends of her long black hair to tickle her nose. When she swiped at the hair, he did it again.
Her eyes popped open, and she shot into a sitting position.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Harbinger said, sitting up with her.
“Oh … Heath. I thought you were the rat.” Ysabel buried her head in her hands.
“I’m sorry.” He pulled her into him. “I didn’t know.”
“It was so big. I crammed rocks into the hole it used to leave.” She shivered.
“You’re safe now. I brought you some food.” He wanted to divert her attention and get some food into her. She’d lost weight since he’d last seen her, and her naturally thin frame was gaunt.
Her stomach grumbled, and she clamped her arms over it. He pulled her in and kissed her lightly. “Food.” He twisted and picked up the tray, positioning it over her lap.
Ysabel grabbed the grapes and popped them into her mouth in rapid succession. “They didn’t give me good food. Just junk.”
“Junk food?”
She nodded and popped a section of orange into her mouth. When she finished, she pulled another section off the orange and explained, “Like the food you find in a gas station in the States. Do we know if the man I hit is all right?”
Harbinger shook his head. “Smith was shot while he was down in the tunnels. Our guide called an ambulance. Val is at the hospital with him.”
Ysabel’s hand slowly dropped, and she put the fruit down. “Because of me.”
“No, because of whoever kidnapped you. Eat,” he commanded. “None of this is your fault.” Harbinger poured more wine into his glass and leaned back on the headboard with her.
She took another segment of the orange before asking, “My father is still a suspect in my abduction?”
“He is.”
“Then, when you talk to him, ask him where my violin is, please.” She shook her head and picked up a slice of cheese, placing it on top of the buttered baguette he’d put on her tray.
Harbinger lifted his eyebrows but finished sipping his wine before asking, “What do you mean?”
“I was playing it when I was taken in Corsica. I went out into the field behind the houses, far enough I wouldn’t be heard. That was where I was attacked. I remember it falling from my hands as the needle went into my neck. When I woke up in that cell, it wasn’t with me.”
“Your Stradivarius?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I shouldn’t be worried about it when your friend Smith is hurt, and my father is … but it’s my …” She shrugged.
“That violin is more than an instrument. It’s the way you express yourself. It’s an extension of who you are.”
She smiled at him. “You understand. You always have.”
Harbinger rolled his head to look at her. “The first time I watched you play, I remember thinking you and I had the same concentration of effort when working. You were focused on being the best you could possibly be. But I changed my mind about that assumption after watching you again. Your concentration isn’t on being the best; it’s on making your violin’s music become something more than what’s written on the page. You try to touch the heavens with your music, and when you do, you take the rest of us on a journey we’d never be able to go on alone.”
Ysabel’s big brown eyes misted. She swallowed hard before saying, “You say the most wonderful things to me.” She put the cheese and bread back down on the plate.
“I’ll stop unless you keep eating.” He motioned to the food.
She laughed quietly. “I’ll eat.”
“And I’ll always tell you how beautiful you and your music are.” He cocked his head when he heard Con’s voice in his ear. “Cloned phone has an incoming text.”
Harbinger held up his finger when Ysabel started to say something. He pointed to his ear and mouthed, Sorry.
She smiled and went back to eating.
“A picture of a woman holding up today’s paper.”
Harbinger tapped his earpiece three times. “Hold on. When you were in the cave today, did someone take a picture of you with a paper in your hands?”
Ysabel shook her head. “No. When he slapped the paper on my chest, I didn’t catch it, and when he bent over to pick it up, that’s when I crashed the rock on his head.”
“It isn’t Ysabel,” Harbinger said.
“Well, then, it’s an AI mock-up and a damn good one,” Con replied.
“Send it to my cell phone.” Harbinger got off the bed and went to the vanity where he’d placed his cell.
He stared at the picture that appeared. Ysabel came up behind him. “She looks like me, but she isn’t bruised.” Ysabel leaned closer. “Her hair is obscuring her face. Look, she’s clean. Look at her fingernails. They probably put my face on someone else, but it isn’t perfect. My cheekbones are higher, and my chin isn’t as sharp, so they didn’t take time to make it right. My father will be able to tell this isn’t me.”
“That picture wasn’t manipulated,” Jewell said. “Facial rec hits on both Ysabel Archambeau and Nadia Molchalin. Nadia’s match is ninety-seven percent. Ysabel forty-three percent.”
“Her sister,” Con said.
“Which implicates her in the hostage-taking, not Ysabel’s father.” Jewell said what Harbinger was thinking.
“But her father knew she was missing. I still like him as the orchestrator of the entire thing.” Con rebuffed Jewell’s theory.
“We’ll find out in the morning. Is there anything new on Smith?” Harbinger asked, stilling the running chatter.
“Nope. Waiting on word from our doc or Val. All we know is he was taken up to get pictures to see if that bullet fractured,” Jewell informed him.
“All right. I’m going back to listening mode.” He hit the earpiece three times and heard the beep, signaling he was clear to talk. “Nothing new on Smith.”
“What did they say about that picture?” Ysabel had put on her clothes while he’d been listening to the computer techs.
“They’re working on it, but they don’t think it’s been manipulated.” He turned and extended his hand. “Do you want something else to eat?”
“No. Thank you. I’d like a glass of wine, and I want you to sit with me and hold me.”
“That can be arranged.” Harbinger poured her a small amount of wine, and they walked to the loveseat in the corner of the room. Harbinger turned on the gas to the fireplace and lit it before he sat down and cradled her into his side.
“If they didn’t manipulate the photo, how did they find someone who looks so similar to me?” Ysabel took a sip and sighed heavily. “You know, there were times I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. This, just being with you, is so much more than I believed would happen.”
“What did you think would happen?” Harbinger didn’t touch the photo question. He would have to reveal she had a sister sooner or later, but tonight wasn’t the night. Tonight was about finding each other again … and making sure Smith and Val were okay.
“That they would kill me. They weren’t above hitting me and shoving me around. I knew they were keeping me alive for a reason. I just didn’t know what that reason could be.”
Harbinger sighed and kissed the top of her head. “They will pay. Whoever it was that did this to you.”
She took a small sip of the wine. “You mean my father?”
Harbinger was silent for a moment, trying to phrase his words carefully. “Yes, or perhaps others.”
“Heath?”
He looked down at her. “Yes?” His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Ysabel smiled and nodded to the phone. “Answer it. It’s okay.”
Pulling the phone from his pocket, he saw Val’s name and answered it. “How is he?”
“He’ll be fine. They’re removing the fragment of the bullet and another piece that went much deeper. The Guardian doctor is doing that, and they’ll hold him at least overnight, which means I’ll be here, too.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Everything I need is getting ready to go into the operating theater, but he’ll be okay, and so will I. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“That works but call me if you need me.”
“I won’t,” Val snapped back. “Sorry, I mean, he’ll be fine.”
“You have every right to worry. Do you need me or Con to come to the hospital?”
“No, God, no. I’m just going to sit and wait. Having anyone here would make me be social and talk and shit. I’m not in the mood.”
“Then call if something unexpected happens.”
“Not going to happen and stop saying it, asshole,” Val reprimanded him.
“Sorry. Whatever it takes.” He let her know he was there for her.
“As long as it takes.” Val dropped the call.
“Is he okay?” Ysabel asked.
“He will be. Val won’t be back tonight.” He put the phone on the small table beside the loveseat. “What were you going to ask me?”
Ysabel looked down at her glass. “That when we knew Smith was okay, would you make love to me.”
Harbinger took the glass from her hand and set it on the table. He framed her face with his hands. “I want nothing more than to make love to you all night long. You’ve been through so much. I don’t want to pressure you.”
Ysabel leaned into him. “I need you, Heath. I need to feel your love. I need to know this isn’t a dream, that you’re here, and I didn’t lose you when I said those horrible words.”