Chapter 20
20
A fter one beer and two pretzels, life actually was better. Or more tolerable, anyway. Lina stopped on a street corner and took a moment to appreciate the late summer beauty of the mountains. After their snack stop, they’d walked all over town looking for a clue as to what her father wanted her to find. They even mapped out houses with addresses that matched the four numbers on the back. There were three, and none of them looked familiar to her.
“I don’t want to call it a day…” Jackson said. The sun still hung high in the sky, and they had plenty of daylight left, but they’d been walking for hours. Aimlessly for most of that.
“How about we grab a late lunch—real food—and take a mental break,” she suggested instead. The search wasn’t arduous, but they were out of ideas. Maybe food and caffeine would help.
Jackson nodded and pointed to a hofbrau eatery across the street. “How about a sandwich?”
“Perfect,” she said, following him to the opposite side. They each ordered their food, watching the man behind the counter slice the meat from a fresh roasted turkey, then grabbed sodas, two bags of chips, and a tray. After paying in cash, they found a seat near the front window. Neither was inclined to chat, so they ate in a comfortable silence. She tried not to let frustration and disappointment overwhelm her, reminding herself that she’d managed tougher missions with less intel and done okay. But while true, none of those missions had been as personal as this. And the longer it took to find what her dad wanted her to find, the deeper she felt—regretted—her lack of relationship with him.
He never would have been the warm, affectionate father she wished for—a male version of her mom. But holding him to standards that he could never meet had kept her from appreciating who he was. And maybe if she hadn’t—maybe if they’d found a common meeting space—all this would make much more sense.
“I’ll clear the table, then we can decide what to do next,” she said, rising and grabbing the tray. Without a word, Jackson loaded their empty sandwich baskets, soda cans, and trash, and she headed for the garbage. She’d just started back when a man rounded the corner in a rush, not giving her time to step out of his way.
A look of surprise flashed on his face before their shoulders collided, spinning them around. The man grabbed her, steadying them both, but the packet of mail he carried fluttered to the ground.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said. “I’m so sorry, I, well, obviously, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you okay?” he asked, his bushy gray eyebrows lowered in concern.
“I’m fine,” Lina assured him. Other than the jolt of being taken by surprise, she was.
Jackson crossed the restaurant to her side and dropped to the floor. “Here, let me help,” he said, gathering the mail.
“Oh, thank you,” the man replied, keeping a wary eye on her as if worried he’d done more damage than the accidental brush of their shoulders.
Jackson stilled, and the energy around him shifted. By the time Lina knelt beside him, he’d gathered the last item, an alum magazine from the University of Washington. Holding it out to her, she reached for it. He shook his head and nodded to the cover. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t pointing out the UW connection. Her gaze landed on the address, a PO Box. With a four-number identifier. The format, rather than the number, catching his attention.
She looked at Jackson, who nodded. At least they knew their next step now.
“Here you go, sir,” Jackson said, rising and handing the stack to the older man.
“Thank you; these hips aren’t as good as they used to be,” he said to Jackson. “I do hope I didn’t hit you too hard,” he added, looking at her.
She smiled and waved off his concern. “Not a problem.” His eyes bounced between the two of them again, but she saw nothing more than concern. With a dip of his chin, he turned and walked to the counter, taking a seat on an empty stool.
“Post office is around the corner and down the hill,” Jackson said, already having looked it up.
“Off we go,” she said under her breath as they traipsed out the door to their next destination.
Given how long they’d already searched the town, it felt almost anticlimactic when they walked into the post office, found the box that matched the number on the old receipt, and, using one of the six keys to open it, pulled out another envelope. The ease of it made it feel as if she should have made the connection sooner, but she didn’t let that dampen the energy zinging through her as they walked back to the car. Not only did they have one more envelope, but they’d unlocked a pattern in her dad’s puzzle. She’d wager her bike that all the keys included in the tin opened PO boxes. Now, they had to find the right post offices.
“Do we head to Orcas Island from here?” Jackson asked, his mind on the same track as hers. They had two postcards and three items—the spool, the magnifying glass, and the toy soldier—remaining. Of those, Orcas and Murphys were the obvious places to look next, and since Orcas was closer, it made sense to head there first.
“That we do,” she replied. “You drive, and I’ll look up the ferry schedule. Once we know that, I’ll see what this envelope contains.” The same size and weight as the one Clint had given her, she had an idea of what they’d find inside. They both did.
By the time Jackson cleared the city limits heading west toward Anacortes, where they’d catch the ferry to Orcas Island, she had the schedule and knew exactly where to find the post office. She’d also confirmed that the PO boxes were accessible twenty-four hours a day—a good thing as they’d be arriving long after closing hours.
Pleased with their progress, she set her phone down and eyed the envelope before sliding her finger under the flap and opening it. As anticipated, another death certificate.
“Jeremiah Talley,” she read. “Died a year ago in Boston of a stroke. He was forty-eight.”
“What are the causes of a stroke?” Jackson asked.
Lina shook her head. “A lot of things, I think. Head trauma, obesity, cholesterol.” She paused. “And blood clots.”
“Our connection?”
She inclined her head. “Maybe,” she said. A hemorrhage and a blood clot were two different things, but both were conditions that would have interested her father. But how Jeremiah Talley from Boston was connected to Annibel Rutgers of Muncie, Indiana, she had no idea.
“Call Leo,” Jackson said.
She found his contact on Jackson’s phone, and after connecting the device to Bluetooth, she dialed the number.
“Hey, guys,” Leo said, answering. “Sorry, we had a situation come up, and I haven’t had a chance to look into the name you gave me yesterday, but it’s next on the agenda.”
“Any chance you can add one more?” Lina asked.
“You found another clue?”
“We did. In Leavenworth. We’re headed to Orcas Island now, where we’re pretty sure we’ll find a third.”
“Look at you on a roll now,” Leo said, his voice distracted and the sound of the clicking keyboard coming through the speaker. “Send me a picture of the new info and I’ll add it to the file. If you find something in Orcas, send that, too. I’ll start investigating all three tomorrow morning.”
They both murmured their thanks, and Lina was about to hang up when Jackson stopped her. “Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“Any chance you can get us a room at a hotel somewhere near Anacortes for when we get back from the island? I’d rather we stay off any radars,” he added. They’d lost Sam and Nest back in Northern California, but she agreed it would be best not to use their credit cards.
“Roger that. I’ll text you the information,” he added.
“Text me the cost, too, and I’ll pay you back,” he said.
“No, my dad will,” Lina corrected. “We have more cash than we can spend. Not a bad problem to have, but a weird one.”
Leo chuckled. “No worries. I trust you’re good for it.” After a quick goodbye, she ended the call. A confirmation text popped up on her phone a disturbingly short time later. She also hadn’t remembered ever giving Leo her number, but she supposed for a man like Leo, finding it was child’s play.
“He booked us a rental for two nights in case we need to stay and plan our next step,” she said, eyeing the pictures of a cozy lakeside house.
“Good idea to book the short-term rental. No one will be there to check IDs or take a deposit,” Jackson said.
It was a good idea, although based on the booking info, she suspected Leo had ulterior motives. Perched on the edge of a lake, the home boasted a charming wraparound porch, a hot tub, and a bedroom tucked under the pitch of the roof, complete with a giant picture window looking out over the water and to mountains beyond. A single bedroom.
“He added a note that he asked to have it stocked with some basics,” she said. There’d probably be champagne and strawberries. Or, more likely, the best local brew and a pizza. She was good with both—the food and the bedroom situation. In just a few nights, she’d grown used to sleeping beside Jackson. She liked the warmth of his body and the feel of him holding her. Or of her holding him. She liked tucking herself behind him, her arm draped over his torso, his skin smooth and contoured under her fingers.
She glanced over and let her gaze trace his profile. The first time he looked at her, energy had arced between them, the chemistry lighting up her body. Exactly what she’d wanted that night. But now she had to wonder if that single night had gone as planned, would it have been enough?
She liked to think she would have climbed on her bike and ridden away the next morning—and she probably would have. But would she have regretted that decision? Again, she liked to think not, but Jackson had crawled into her psyche. Why else had he come to mind first when she needed backup? Clint’s question that morning—as straightforward as it was—revealed more than a simple answer.
Out of everyone she could have called, it hadn’t occurred to her to ask anyone other than Jackson. That alone told her more than any soul-searching would.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Jackson said, his eyes fixed on the road.
“I wonder if I have more of my dad in me than I thought,” she replied. The words surprised her. There was more truth to them than she was comfortable with, though.
“In what way?” Jackson asked, his voice tentative.
Now that she’d dug herself into the hole, she wasn’t quite sure how to get out. Or if she wanted to.
She glanced at Jackson again, his presence steady and sure beside her. She let her mind replay the conversation from yesterday about his family and childhood. She couldn’t imagine growing up that way, and yet he’d become this man—this strong, honorable, capable man—who she admired and trusted. And cared about. And was attracted to.
“I’m uncomfortably good at compartmentalizing,” she finally answered. “I…I can’t describe it, but it’s like I have these walls between thoughts and emotions. Walls I don’t know how to bring down. Not even when I want to.” And that was the scary part. Quietly, she added, “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m a bit sociopathic that way. Not in the crazy killer sense, but in the clinical sense. I don’t think I experience emotions the way normal people do.”
“Like your dad?”
She nodded.
He didn’t respond right away, which made her feel both better and not. She would have appreciated an emphatic denial, but she also liked that he was giving her words real thought.
A minute passed, and he bobbed his head. “It’s possible you have some of his same tendencies, but you’re very good at reading other people and their emotions, so I don’t think you’re similar in that regard.”
His words rang true. She never would have succeeded as an agent if she couldn’t read a room.
She made a face. “So it’s only my emotions I have issues with.”
Jackson chuckled. “You aren’t the only one, but are you thinking of something specific?”
She considered blowing off the question, taking the easy route out of the conversation. Especially since she had no idea what she wanted to say. But two things stopped her. Clint and Leo.
As Clint pointed out that morning, she wasn’t on this planet for very long—not in the grand scheme of things. Why not grab hold of the good things—Jackson—and hang on for dear life?
And second, a tiny but growing part of her craved the freedom that came with loving someone completely, that came with allowing herself to be loved completely. The way Leo and Joey did. She didn’t want the kind of relationship her parents had. She wanted the unshakable devotion she witnessed in the young couple.
If she accepted both of those desires as true, she needed to acknowledge her flaws and challenges and fears and muddle her way through them. In the same way she knew Jackson would help her when she’d texted him, she didn’t question whether he’d be with her every step of this new journey. But her stomach churned at the thought of revealing the mess of thoughts and questions in her head.
He reached over and took her hand, bringing it across the console to rest on his thigh. The way his fingers enveloped hers soothed her nerves.
She took a deep breath. “I want more from this.” He glanced over. “From us,” she clarified. His hand twitched, and she rushed on. “A one-night stand might have been enough those months ago—maybe—but it’s not now. But how do we get there from here? Now that we know each other so well, and now that we’ve shared the experiences we’ve shared, there’s more involved than just a fun night between the sheets and…that’s where those walls come into play.” Her gaze remained fixed on the side of the road, the trees going by in a blur. “I can see what I want. I can see the goal. But it’s like there’s this mental block that keeps my emotions from being a normal part of my life, like this future is bubbling under the surface, but it can’t find a way out. And I…I don’t know how to let myself be the woman I want to be with you.”
Jackson remained silent for a mile, then picked up her hand, kissed it, and set it back on his thigh.
“Tell me more about this woman you want to be,” he prompted.
She nearly groaned. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I don’t care about the white picket fence and all that, but I want…I want the kind of relationship Leo and Joey have. They are different people, obviously, but I want that trust, that devotion, that humor, that surety, and that affection.” She took a deep breath. “At the end of the day, I want the confidence—and skills—to express how I feel, both in words and actions.”
“You think you don’t have those?”
She chuckled. “I’ve never cared about having either before, so I don’t know. Although, to be fair, I’ve also never wanted to.”
“My guess is you’re a quick learner.”
“But it might not be a pretty learning process,” she conceded, asking without words whether he’d be patient enough to stand with her as she muddled through it.
He squeezed her hand. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Not unless you want me to.”
She didn’t want him to, but his words gave her pause. “If I asked you to, would you leave?”
“Or would I stay and fight for whatever we build together?” he asked, finishing the thought she hadn’t wanted to voice. She inclined her head. He exhaled. “A relationship takes two people. Neither of us can carry it on our own. And with my history, it would be hard for me to even try. I guess the difference is knowing when one or the other just made a mistake, maybe said or did something stupid—and we give grace for that and hold steady—versus knowing when they mean it.”
His words rolled around in her head. Her life wasn’t a romance novel, and Jackson wouldn’t magically divine her every thought or feeling. When she fucked up—and she would—it would be her responsibility to make it right. A terrifying thought. She’d fixed a lot of things in her life, and the work didn’t daunt her. But collecting intelligence behind enemy lines and solving someone’s tax dilemma were a wee bit different than building a solid relationship with a life partner.
“Tell me I’m not the only one nervous about…this.” She waved her hand between them.
Jackson chuckled, not a lighthearted one. “I grew up with parents who hated themselves, each other, and their kids. I lived every day knowing they didn’t want me. And they weren’t shy about reminding me—or any of us kids—about that fact. Then there’s the military. They appreciated the work I did, but we’re all cogs in that machine. I found loyalty—family—in the Falcons, but it’s not something I give or receive naturally. So yeah, it makes me nervous. And yes, I’m going to have triggers. But I think we should both also note one important thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“We ran to each other when you needed help. We’ve worked alongside each other, 24/7, for several days, and, most importantly, at least to me, we’re having this conversation. It’s not easy, but we’re leaning into it. You know this is right. This is a chance we both have.”
She considered what he said. All of it. She’d been thinking things from her point of view, but as he said, a relationship took two people, and he’d be as flawed, scarred, and tentative as she. It wasn’t only her own emotions she’d have to navigate, but his as well. And the last thing she ever wanted Jackson to feel was unwanted. She couldn’t imagine how deep that scar ran through him.
But they were having this conversation. A conversation she never thought she’d have, not with herself, let alone someone else. And although unease swirled gently through her body, she recognized it for what it was—anticipation, not fear.
The tightness in her chest eased, and she leaned against the back of her seat. They had two long ferry rides to go, but she was already looking forward to the house they’d stay in tonight. And the hot tub and view from the bedroom.
A smile teased her lips. Maybe Leo would let her call it even now.