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  “It helped today. She reassured me it’s normal to be confused. There’s so much up in the air. What about my job? I gave them permission to dig up William. What kind of mother does that?”

  “No one is rushing you. And with William, you’re doing what’s necessary. They won’t hurt him.”

  She gulped back fresh tears. “And Ian? I hear what everyone is saying, but I’m a train wreck.”

  A soft knock interrupted them, and Ian stepped inside, looking relaxed despite the circumstances. “Hey, Cassie. Can I come in?”

  Cassie shifted to look at him, grimacing in pain. “Please.”

  He crossed over the threshold. “I have an idea. How about a change in scenery that has nothing to do with doctors? First, something for the pain. Then, Jamie gave me permission to disconnect you for a while if you promise to behave. We can go for a walk?”

  Frank whispered to Christian, “He’s good for her.”

  After Jamie administered some pain medicine and situated a fresh ice pack on her shoulder, Ian disconnected the monitor, wrapped Cassie in a blanket, and lifted her into his strong arms. On the main floor, French doors opened onto a slate patio. A walkway led to a trail circling the estate where a wheelchair filled with fluffy pillows was waiting. “Comfortable?”

  “This is beautiful. Thank you for everything.” Cassie turned her head to look up at him.

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.” Moonlight reflected off the Potomac River, forming a halo around her face. Ian pushed her along the path, sharing with her the story of why they chose this property and how it made it easy to live with Kieran and Monique. It widened to reveal a flat area of the river’s bank where a pair of lounge chairs with a small table were illuminated by candles.

  Cassie gave him a wistful look. “You’re doing this for me? Ian, I don’t understand.”

  Ian squatted down, placing a hand on each arm of the wheelchair. “Let me help you understand. Cassie, please don’t push me away.” He couldn’t hold back another moment. His dark stubble tickled her cheek, more a gentle pressure than a kiss. Her eyes closed as his smooth tongue swept along the seam of her lips, coaxing her mouth open.

  Cassie’s tongue danced with his, tasting like peppermint. He wished the kiss could go on forever, but he pulled back, not wanting to spook her. Breathing fast, he held his head against her forehead. “Cassie, what you do to me.” He nuzzled the tip of her nose before he forced himself to break contact. Her lips were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed as he lifted her to the chaise.

  Fear in her eyes, Cassie extended her left arm to pull him to her. “I have you.” When she rested her head against his chest, he felt the slight tremor in her body. “Shh.”

  Her words were barely audible when she started to speak. “You need to understand who I am. After I lost my family, I felt angry and guilty. They died because I couldn’t free them, and I wished I died with them. I hurt so much inside and out, and the scars, they’re a constant reminder of the failure I am.”

  “They died because of a defective part and a malfunctioning harness system.” Ian decided to correct every negative assumption.

  “Rachel and Luke tried so hard to make me comfortable and happy. I gained five brothers who wanted to protect me. Imagine bringing a boyfriend home to them?” Ian smiled against her hair. "They worked so hard to help me get better.

  “When I enrolled in college, it was the first time I was ever by myself. Sophie lived across the hall. We gained the freshman fifteen together, friends forever. Three o’clock in the morning gelato will get you every time. It was great. I was having fun. I tutored, volunteered for Dreamcatchers, and endowed a few anonymous projects.

  "I joined the art group. I met Garett at a show, and he said my paintings reminded him of living free, one in particular. I have a confession—it was my painting at the American Café.”

  Ian pressed a kiss on her head. “I know, sweetheart, I saw the CME in the waves.”

  She hugged him a bit tighter. “Garett kept coming around, wearing me down with sweet gestures. We started to date. He was kind and patient, and we talked for hours. When he graduated from law school, he proposed. After I said yes, things started to change. He wasn’t so patient anymore. He wanted more of my time and attention.” Cassie closed her eyes. “I wasn’t ready. The more he pushed, the more I… He said I was cold and frigid. I tried to explain I was scared, but he said I should loosen up and get over myself. He always tried to get me to take a drink. I’m not a teetotaler, but I don’t like the taste. Then, his mother got involved. She presented me with a list.”

  “List?” Ian asked.

  “A list of the rules I needed to follow to be a wife,” Cassie explained. “They ran from homemaking to…” She shook her head.

  Ian wanted to kill them. He had no idea what to say, so he continued to hold her and listen.

  “The day I defended my dissertation, we made plans to celebrate. He said he was so happy for me. It was the first time in months he seemed like the guy I first dated. He was proud of me. That night, I met you at Mellon 21.

  “I called Garett from the office. We decided to meet at his parents’ house because I needed to drop off a painting Garett’s dad purchased. We planned to take one car, have a late meal, and he would stay over. I was going to try.

  “I drove to their house in Reston. I remember carrying the portrait inside, but his dad told me Garett wasn’t there; he’d left for the restaurant. He told me I was confused. I know what we said to each other, and his car was in the driveway. My apartment had one space. There was lousy street parking.”

  Ian nuzzled her hair, drawing in slow and steady breaths.

  “Sweetheart, was Mark in the office when you called Garett?”

  “He had to be— to verify the payment.” Cassie picked up where she left off, “I placed the painting on an easel in their living room.

  “His dad insisted we share a glass of champagne to celebrate the painting and my degree. He said Garett could wait. I never took a sip, I swear. Ian, I wasn’t drunk.” She slumped against him.

  “I believe you.” He rubbed her back.

  “The last thing I remember is standing by my car. Everything else is foggy. Muffled voices. I remember someone screaming, and I think it was me. A man was holding my hand. Another voice said, ‘Cassiopeia, be good.’ A woman told me it was necessary and would be over soon. I remember it hurting. I think I fell asleep—was stuck in a dream. Clove cigarettes and Clive Christian cologne. Moldy smells. Stale beer. Sweat. A lumpy bed. I remember their taunting: ‘Frigid bitch. She knows too much. Whore. Die, Cassiopeia.’ Everything was swirling like Munch’s The Scream. ‘Zhal, chto yey nuzhno umeret. Ona khoroshaya shlyukha.’” She shivered as goosebumps rose to the surface of her skin.

  Ian translated the horrible words. It’s a pity she has to die. She’s a good whore.

  “When I woke up in the hospital, Garett was sitting with me. He kept telling me how sorry he was—everything would be okay. When I asked him what happened, he said we had a fight, and I left the restaurant pissed off, but I don’t remember. The doctor told me what they found when they examined me. He told me I kept saying ‘Cassiopeia is dead.’ I was so devastated. Then, six weeks later, it got worse: I found out I was pregnant.”

  Cassie let go of Ian. “When I found out, I told Garett everything. He came over when everyone was out and told me we needed to talk. More like he needed to talk, and I had to listen. He didn’t care I was upset. He said the wedding was canceled because I could never be a Whitman. I was soiled goods. If it was a real rape, I wouldn’t have conceived.” She gulped back a sob.

  “He told me I wouldn’t be able to take care of him the right way. He kept saying I put out for my rapist. I told him I planned to go away, have the baby, and put it up for adoption. No one would ever know. He said my womb was sullied. It wouldn’t matter what I did. He would always see proof another man had me. And now Sebastian has made me uglier. My body is scarred.” She buried her head
against Ian’s chest again. “You can have any woman you want. How could you want a woman like me?” Her breaths came in stutters.

  “Cassie, please listen to me.” Ian waited for her to make eye contact. “Sweetheart, Garett and his crazy family are cruel. There are no rules for a woman in a relationship or a wife in a marriage.” His fingers slid down her cheek. “I would hope a woman in my life would choose to be with me out of desire.”

  He paused to let her see his expressions. “The men who hurt you are evil. All that self-hatred should be focused on them. You are a survivor, not ‘soiled goods,’ and your womb is not sullied. You are not a whore.” He shook his head.

  “Please believe me when I say you deserve so much better than you got. I’m being honest about my feelings for you. You are a beacon of light.” He pulled her close and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “You are beautiful, my sweet Cassie.”

  Her body relaxed in his arms, and it felt natural to have her close to him. They sat in peace for a few minutes breathing in sync with each other.

  “I know you have questions. Mother hens, Tuck and Pete, tell me you need calories. I have a brilliant idea.” He rubbed his knuckles against his chest, joined with a big smile. “I will answer your questions if you eat some pistachio gelato.” He reached into the cooler beside them and opened a pint container of her favorite treat.

  “How did you know?” Cassie’s eyes twinkled in the candlelight.

  “I have my ways. Ask away. We’ll go slow.” He spooned a bit and touched her nose with the green confection.

  Cassie pressed her spine against the back of the lounge chair. “I need help sorting things out. In the bathroom, after I was stabbed, I felt like I was underwater. It hurt so much. I couldn’t see, and I couldn’t breathe. I heard shots; Andy said I fired twice. I don’t remember. Then it got quiet. I felt cold, and I didn’t want to die. Was it a dream? Were you there with me? I was dancing with you. You promised me I wasn’t alone. The next thing I remember is waking up in my room here. Ian, I am such a hot mess.”

  “I was there, and I rode with you in the ambulance.” Ian kept his responses simple, paying attention to her body language. “You were not alone, sweetheart.”

  Ian avoided talking about the bombing, but he needed answers to two questions. “When you spoke with Andy Blake, Ames told you you’d bring a good price. What do you think he meant by that?”

  “I did? He called me a whore. I guess he was treating me like one. I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to sell me. He flipped out when I told him I was with the FBI.” She blew out a harsh breath.

  “You told him that?”

  “Yeah, that made him crazy.” She held Ian’s hand.

  “One more thing, Cassie, last night, during your interview with Andy and a few minutes ago when you were talking about what happened six years ago, you fell into Russian.”

  Cassie scrunched her eyebrows. “You speak Russian? What did I say?”

  “Zhal’, chto yey nuzhno umeret’. Ona khoroshaya shlyukha. ‘It’s a pity she has to die. She’s a good whore,’” Ian said, and she gasped. “Cassie, talk to me.”

  “Six years ago, the plan was for me to die. That’s what I didn’t do. I lived.”

  “No one will hurt you here,” Ian said with all his heart.

  He followed Cassie’s stare as her gaze focused on a leaf floating on the river. “He was perfect, you know. Thick dark hair. Perfect, tiny little fingers and toes. Why did someone take my book? It’s all I had of him. I never even heard him cry.” Tears misted her eyes.

  Ian pulled the tiny hat from his pocket. “Sweetheart, we found this in your closet. I wish I could tell you who is doing this and why. Now that William is no longer a secret, I can make arrangements for him to be brought here to be with your family. I know how hard it was for you to sign that order.” Ian trailed a finger down her cheek.

  Cassie clutched the cap to her chest while staring at Ian through misty eyes. “You would do that?”

  Ian pulled her onto his lap. “Cassie, I’d do anything for you.” He cuddled her in his arms until she fell asleep.

  Bruce and Zach pursued the opportunity to enter and wire Joseph Maddox’s home at their first chance for an undetected entry. Bruce popped a basement window, and both men slipped without a sound to the ground, their ears filling with the classical music playing upstairs. Using night vision goggles, the two former SEALs eased up the steps and began to place the covert listening devices. Everything was dark except for one room in the rear of the sizeable colonial-style home.

  Zach removed his goggles before sliding a tiny camera under the door attached to his cell phone. He dragged a finger across his throat.

  Bruce opened the door, and both men stepped in front of the large Jacobean oak pedestal desk. Dr. Joseph Maddox was slumped over, frozen in time. A syringe remained stuck in his arm, a vial of potassium beside him. Bruce dialed their night supervisor.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cassie awoke the next morning rested, more comfortable, her head clearer. The combination of sharing her secrets and Ian’s strong words made her feel better. Lillian helped her bathe and get dressed. Hunter wanted her to increase her activity.

  “Ready to do this?” Lillian smiled.

  “Sure,” Cassie grunted. Just lifting her legs or raising her arms while sitting in a chair left her breathless.

  Lillian tied her sneakers. “You will feel better when you get some fresh air. It’s beautiful out.”

  Hunter walked in, smiling. “Look at you. All dressed up and someplace to go.”

  “Whatever.”

  Hunter and Lillian exchanged glances. “First PT session. Let’s go.” He put his hands under Cassie’s knees and lifted her into his arms.

  “You know, I saw that look. Where are we going?” Cassie asked.

  “Outside.” Hunter started to walk.

  “There’s an elevator.” Cassie pointed behind them.

  “I need some exercise.” He carried her down the stairs, in the opposite direction of Martin’s room, giving a tour through the house on the way to the patio.

  Pete said, “Cass, we’re going to go very slow. Some leg exercises, some hand exercises, a little massage, and some breathing exercises.

  Cassie looked up. “Great—Tuck’s medieval torture device.”

  Pete bent over, laughing. Tucker approached with an incentive spirometer, an instrument designed to help her lung capacity, all covered in glitter. “Fairy dust.”

  Cassie joined in the laughter. “Okay, maybe not torture.”

  Hunter’s lips turned up. “And if you’re up to it, we’ll try a little walk. You need to tell us how you’re feeling.”

  Trying some elementary exercises, Cassie bit down on her lip, refusing to give in to the pain. “Look at you,” Pete spoke, waggling his eyes at her.

  Tucker and Pete propped and positioned her on the massage table. With her shoulder in a comfortable position, Tucker applied moist heat to her upper back while Pete massaged her knotted calf muscles. Cassie buried her face in her pillow to hide the tears.

  Giving her time to recover, both helped her sit up, encouraging her to squeeze stress balls to unlock her stiff fingers. “How are you doing, honey?” Pete asked.

  “I’m fine.” She gritted her teeth. After taking a few more minutes to rest, it was time to stretch her lungs.

  Tucker counted out a soft cadence for each deep breath. “Cassie, talk to us. Are you lightheaded?”

  She tucked her chin. “I’m fine.” Her caretakers would have to be deaf and blind to miss her struggle.

  Tucker said, “You need to tell us if you feel lightheaded, and we’ll stop. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. After a short rest, she insisted she could repeat the sequence.

  “How about a couple of steps?” Hunter positioned a walker designed for her left hand and her right forearm in front of her.

  The dizzy feeling worsened, and Cassie spotted her eyes on a planter, hopin
g to steady herself. Hunter's hand rested against her right hip as she took a first tentative step. The world tilted, and her legs gave out, collapsing her to the ground. She kicked at the slate in frustration. “Damn it!”

  Her family, watching through the French doors, came flying outside. Cassie missed Hunter wave everyone away before he sat down on the ground nearby and waited. She hurt all over and cursed again.

  “We’re a team. Just ask for help. No one expects you to heal in one day, and certainly not alone. Reach out.” Hunter’s words were soft on the breeze.

  Cassie thought about the night at the museum and the stabbing. She thought about the night she hurt Eric and last night on her walk with Ian. When she needed help, Ian came. Lillian's words echoed in her mind as tears filled her eyes but did not drop. The internal battle stilled within her. “Help me, please.” Her voice was tiny.

  Hunter’s eyes twinkled as he extended his hand. “I’m right here, Cassie.”

  Lillian helped Cassie clean up. “I told Hunt you needed to start living again. No more being cooped up in this room. After dinner, Monique, Sophie, Rachel, and I planned a hen party. Manicures, pedicures, gossip, maybe a movie. And no men.”

  “Really?” Cassie grinned.

  “Yup. You have another dose of antibiotics coming and another feeding—and then some rest.”

  Cassie waved Lillian closer. “Lil, I heard Tuck yelling at someone. Is everything okay?”

  “You have big ears, missy,” Tucker said as he walked in with the medication. “You have a neighbor. Martin is more stubborn than you are.”

  “I guess Ian is running a hospital. Is he okay?” Cassie worried.

  Tucker laughed. “Nothing a swift kick in his bottom won’t cure.”

  Cassie giggled. After a short nap, she was excited to participate in the girls’ night, but first, she was intent on meeting her neighbor.