Secure Desire Page 33

  When Wilds crossed himself and rose, Kieran and Ian bookended him. “I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”

  Ian had no trouble tearing up, his real emotions fraying fast. “Greg, in Cassie’s memory, I won’t lower myself by taking you apart, but if you so much as repeat her name, I won’t hesitate.”

  Wilds stared at him. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  In the library, Cassie fingered the same page of her book, thinking about anyone who could possibly want to kill her and destroy William’s body. She stared at her sketch on Ian’s stationery as voices and pictures swirled in her head. Lost in thought, she never heard Martin come in.

  “Hey, Cassie, I thought you might like this.” He held a tray with a mug of steaming tea and a small plate with biscotti.

  In haste, she closed the book. “Thanks, Martin. This is so sweet of you. Come sit and share them with me. Please.”

  “How are you doing? I’m sorry about earlier. I cannot imagine how difficult this is for you.”

  “I’m fine. I never considered I would need long-term security.”

  Martin bit into the crunchy cookie. “Yes, you may need to make some accommodations, but look at what you gain: love and family.”

  “How long have you worked for Ian?”

  “I was a part of his team and then a platoon leader under him. I’ve been with him since he started Eagle’s Talon. Kieran and I survived BUD/S together.”

  “Were you with Kieran when he was shot?”

  “I wish. Kieran was part of another team. I was with Ian when he was shot. Jamie was the medic. It happened doing door-to-door searches in Bagdad. The bullet was meant for a man who shared information with us, and Ian knowingly stepped in front of the target. Julian took over as temporary CO. That’s another story,” Martin chuckled.

  Cassie chewed a cookie. “You’re family.” He’s not getting hurt again because of me.

  “When someone is willing to put it on the line for you, no questions asked, you tend to get close.”

  “Do you have someone special?”

  “Nah. It’s hard. People don’t quite understand. Do you have someone in mind?” Martin asked.

  Cassie saw some unease cross his expression and crinkled her nose. “Maybe.” Her eyes twinkled. “Sophie?”

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Gator: when this is all over, I will talk to Sophie and see if she feels like going out with me.” He raised his stitched brow.

  “Deal.” Cassie touched the scar. “I want to apologize for everything.”

  “For what?”

  “I know what you did to protect me in that ambulance. And the explosion. It could have killed you, Eric, and Tuck.” Her fingers lingered. “I’m putting everyone in danger. I am the key to all of this.”

  “First, you didn’t do any of that. Second, we are trained to deal with the unexpected. And third—and most important—you are family to every one of us. Cassie, I have never seen Ian like this. I’m not saying he didn’t have female company through the years, but you…the night you were stabbed, he was devastated. After you were poisoned with the potassium, he didn’t leave your side until we brought you here. Every time the doctors said things were bleak, he refused to accept it. We think he willed you to live. Ian has never brought a woman to this home. He adores you.”

  A pink blush tinted her cheeks. “Isn’t this a step down for you? I mean, you’re Ian’s executive officer.”

  “Protecting you is no step down. In fact, it’s humbling that Ian trusts me to take care of you. You are his world. I see that look in your eyes—don’t go there.”

  “I’m fine. Really. I appreciate your honesty.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Gator. I need to do a walk around.”

  Pete walked in as if on cue to join her.

  Martin worried about Cassie while he walked the perimeter of the house. A Fairfax County building department truck was parked beside a van from Ray Hedgecock’s construction company at the pool house. It struck him as odd since it was well after the close of business, and there was no emergency construction order. “Post 1, when did the building department and Hedgecock Construction get here?” Martin tapped his earpiece.

  “Thirty minutes ago. Problem, sir?” the gate guard answered.

  “How many occupants?” Martin asked.

  “Two each. Problem, sir?” the guard asked again.

  “Not yet. Medic 1, secure the package.”

  “Roger,” Pete said.

  “Security 3. Respond to the pool house.” Even with his sunglasses, the afternoon glare was blinding. Martin ducked behind a large bush.

  A man with a heavy Russian accent was speaking with another man, both dressed suitably for a construction site with one glaring exception: both wore expensive leather shoes. “The journal has to be in the master bedroom. The housekeeper just went out. Everyone else is at the funeral home, so no one should be inside.”

  The other man responded with no accent, “Just don’t talk. Watch the cameras.” He directed a laser pointer at the closest camera, blinding it. “And be ready. We cannot have any interference. We need that book.”

  Martin grimaced. “Epsilon alert, four tangos. Repeat, Epsilon alert, four tangos. Pool house and house path,” Martin whispered into his com. With his MK23 in hand, he maintained cover and waited.

  “Security 1, we are getting interference on camera 7,” the communications desk reported.

  “Roger.” Martin watched them move past him before stepping out from his position. “Don’t move.” Both stopped in their tracks. “On your knees.” The larger of the two started to kneel before he spun, raising his gun. Martin fired, dropping him. “On your knees!” he yelled at the second man.

  Armed, Tucker appeared with three members of the security team. The second intruder knelt. “Interlock your hands behind your head!” Tucker roared.

  “Two in custody at the pool house,” a woman’s voice rumbled through Martin’s com.

  Patting them down, Martin found each man carried a Russian-issued Makarov silenced pistol and a small package of RDX—the same plastic explosive that destroyed part of the Chase Group building. “Son of a bitch. We need to secure him. Epsilon alert canceled—three tangos in custody. One tango KIA,” Martin went over the Chase Security estate channel.

  Zach, Julian, and Mike arrived before Martin, Tucker, and the bad guy reached the back door. “Heard you had a little trouble.” Zach took control of a prisoner.

  Martin’s tone defied the lightness of his words. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. We have another problem: all four tangos carried RDX.”

  “Dogs called?” Mike asked.

  “Not yet.” Martin looked toward the house.

  “Go take care of the package. I’ve got it from here,” Julian said.

  With a brisk nod, Martin went to join Cassie. The fear in her eyes almost knocked him off his feet. She wasn’t afraid for herself. She was scared for him—afraid for everyone but herself. “We’re all fine, Gator.” He hugged her.

  “Just another day in paradise.” Pete winked. “How about some dinner?”

  Cassie shook her head. “Maybe later. I think I’d like to go lie down.”

  The second session of the wake was about to begin when Cassie watched Martin call Ian to give him a situation report. The strain in Martin’s voice was evident. “She’s here. She’ll tell you.”

  “Hi, handsome. I’m fine, had a good nap. I swear, Martin is taking care of me. I got to formally meet Julian and Zach. Mike is here too. I swear they’re all almost as bad as you, Hornet,” Cassie soothed.

  “Hornet, huh? You behave—or I’ll sting your sweet bottom. Eat something. Listen to the guys. Put Martin back on.”

  Martin paced in a small circle to finish the call. “Yes, sir.” He blew out a tense breath.

  At the call’s end, Cassie asked to watch the interrogation, demanding to see the men coming after her.

  “Ian’s gonna
filet me, Gator,” Martin said.

  “We won’t tell him,” she implored. Martin shook his head. “I will yank out this feeding tube.” Using the feeding tube to control him, she soon stood in front of the observation window.

  “I liked this job while it lasted,” Martin muttered.

  Cassie stood, rocking on her toes, staring through the mirrored glass at the interrogation. Inside the small room, Julian straddled a chair in front of the first prisoner. “What’s your name?” Julian demanded first in Russian and then in English. The man with brown hair and brown eyes looked up. A jagged scar traversed his left cheek.

  Cassie’s pulse rocketed; her head pounded, and her knees gave out. Martin caught her before she hit the ground. He radioed for Tucker and Eric and propped her cold, clammy body against his. “Help’s coming, Gator.”

  Cassie’s eyes remained fixed on the room while Martin cradled her. Julian continued the interrogation, unaware of what had happened. The prisoner gave only his name.

  Cassie answered all Julian’s questions in a monotone. “David Sucov, art importer. He works for a Moscow gallery owner, Arkady Sabitov. Svoloch!” she yelled—Russian for “you bastard”—as she shook harder in Martin’s arms.

  “Martin, what the hell is she doing here?” Tucker thundered.

  Cassie remained transfixed by the man being interrogated.

  “Cassie, let’s go back upstairs. It was a long day today,” Eric said.

  “No, I need to be here,” she fought.

  “Gator, please. Ian wouldn’t want you to be so stressed. For Ian?” Martin begged.

  “Okay.” Cassie put her hand in Eric’s, but her eyes remained fixed on the observation window until she crossed the threshold.

  Once she and Eric were out of sight, she could hear Tucker roar, “Ian is going to take you apart, Martin. And when he’s done, I’m going to bury your carcass.” He stormed from the room.

  Tucker unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from Cassie’s arm. “Ninety over fifty. When was the last time you ate or drank something?”

  “I had a cup of tea and a couple of cookies at about five-thirty. I’m not hungry.” She remained sweaty and pale.

  “Lie back.” Tucker reached into the huge med bag and tossed Eric fluid and IV tubing. “I’m getting some food. Hook her up.” The door slammed shut.

  “Tuck’s mad.”

  “Tuck’s worried. Sorry, angel. I have to stick you.” Eric started an IV. “He’s not mad at you. He’s mad at Martin. Cassie, you are our priority. Martin knew better.”

  “I don’t know what happened; I got dizzy.” Cassie knew precisely what happened: David Sucov raped her six years earlier.

  Tucker returned with a grilled cheese sandwich and a tall glass of milk. Both men stood over her while she ate. Only able to manage half, she pushed the plate away.

  “Time to rest.” Before she could protest, Eric injected a mild sedative. When she was asleep, he hooked up a feeding.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Burt Marshall and Kevin Tyler stood in the driveway of the funeral home. “This is freaking me out. First Sebastian, Phyllis, and Bobby—and now Cassie? Garett’s missing. You don’t think this is karma?”

  Burt lit a cigarette. “Nah, you’re paranoid. It’s just horrible coincidences. Seb was stupid, and Bobby was a freak. You know he probably killed Phyllis. They did all that other stuff without us; it’s on them. And the paper said Cassie died during a home invasion. Who knows what Garett’s up to? You’ve met his mom. We need to keep it together; we did nothing illegal. We were just covering Garett’s ass at the restaurant. It was between him and Cassie. We’ll lay low, and this will all blow over.”

  Burt put his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go pay our respects.” He dropped the cigarette to the ground.

  When the two young men approached Rachel and Luke Paulsen, Burt extended his hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Paulsen, I don’t know if you remember us.”

  “Burt and Kevin, right?” Luke shook their hands. “Burt, your parents were here earlier.”

  “Sir, we were remiss in not keeping in touch with Cassie when she and Garett broke up. We are so sorry for your loss. Cassie was a good person,” Burt offered their sympathy. Kevin kept his head down.

  Guilty behavior, Ian watched and noted. Luke waved him over.

  The two young men stiffened. “Boys, this is Ian Chase. He was Cassie’s boyfriend.” After introductions, the young men extended their condolences.

  “I’m sure Cassie would appreciate you being here. You two are hard to catch up with. I need to ask you a couple of questions. I assume you knew what happened to Cassie before Garett and she ended their relationship.”

  Burt shrugged. “It was a tough time for both of them.” His tone was flat.

  Ian bit his cheek. “Well, it was for her. I promised Cassie I would help her get answers. I am keeping that promise. The night she was attacked, where were you?”

  “Houseman’s,” Kevin mumbled, looking everywhere but Ian’s eyes.

  “Together,” Burt answered, too rehearsed for Ian’s liking.

  “This is not the place. After this is over, I will sit down with you. I have some questions about Garett.” Ian loomed over them.

  “Mr. Chase, we liked Cassie. We’ll be happy to do anything that allows her to rest in peace,” Kevin overcommitted to his statement, setting off Ian’s internal lie detector.

  Eagle’s Talon personnel were stretched thin. Colby, doing double duty, hid and used a camera to document the comings and goings at the wake. He noticed one young man speaking in an active way to another. Looking through the high-powered lens, he tried to read their lips. It was the only positive that came out of being too close to a mortar that ruined his shoulder and left him deaf for six weeks.

  Nah, you’re paranoid. It’s just horrible coincidences. Seb was stupid, and Bobby was a freak. You know he probably killed Phyllis. They did all that other stuff without us.

  Colby waited for them inside. Slipping from his hiding spot, he moved to where they were standing. “Got ya.” Colby scooped up the cigarette butt and texted Kieran.

  The shutter continued to whir, documenting the Beltway power brokers vying for attention. Reporters prowled the front entrance. It saddened him some of the mourners were just morbidly curious.

  Adrienne and Bradford Whitman entered the big room. Due to the large crowd, they managed to avoid Cassie’s brothers, but they couldn’t avoid Luke, Rachel, and Ian. Bradford offered his hand. “Chase, Rachel, Luke. Such a terrible tragedy. That poor child, she never caught a break.”

  “What happened?” Adrienne asked.

  Child? “A home invasion. A bullet hit her oxygen tank,” Ian said.

  Adrienne pursed her lips. “I pray it was fast. Burns are painful injuries.” She turned and walked away.

  “Ade, that wasn’t right. She just lost her child,” Bradford said. After they paid their respects, Adrienne became consumed in conversation with one of the other mourners.

  “Mr. Whitman, may I speak with you a moment please?” Ian approached him while his wife was distracted.

  “What can I do for you, son?”

  “I was wondering if you’d heard from Garett.”

  “No, nothing. I might need to secure your company’s services to search for him.”

  Ian nodded. “Mr. Whitman, I promised Cassie I would find answers about who hurt her six years ago. I intend to keep that promise. I’d like to come by your office and discuss some things.”

  “I don’t know what I didn’t tell the police, but for Cassiopeia, anything.” They shared a firm handshake.

  The ride home was too long for Ian. He needed to see Cassie, and then he was going to have a discussion with Martin. “I don’t care if she asked, Kieran. If she asked to shoot herself, would he give her a gun?”

  Kieran grabbed a bottle of soda from the limo fridge and handed a bottle of water to Monique. “Take a deep breath and a big step back. Cassie needs to feel some sense o
f control and independence. Would you have preferred he restrained her? She’s fine. Eric told you so.

  “Let Julian and Zach have a crack at those men. If they get nowhere, I’m sure Noah wouldn’t mind having a chat. You’re not in the right frame of mind to handle this. Remember the lesson you taught me in San Diego? When we get home, get some rest beside Cassie. That’s where you need to be. Tomorrow will be another hard day.”

  Ian entered his suite and found Martin, Tucker, and Eric camped out in the sitting area. Cassie was sleeping—wrapped around his pillow. A light knock on the door followed, and Colby joined them.

  “Thanks, Cowboy. I won’t be too long. She doesn’t leave the room.” Ian pointed to the other men. “You three, my office.” He paced the office and held up a cautionary finger. “Don’t say a word. Eric and Tuck, how is she? What happened in the interview area?”

  Tucker straightened in his seat. “We screwed up.”

  Eric nodded. “We didn’t watch her food and fluid intake tight enough. She is brittle and dehydrated quickly, which caused a syncopal episode. When we got her back to bed, her pulse was high—and her blood pressure was low. We gave her a liter of fluid and made her eat. She was upset, so we pushed a low dose of a sedative. We gave her the evening feeding that finished an hour ago. As you saw, she’s stable and comfortable.”

  Ian squinted at Martin, who relayed the events the same way he reported earlier. “When I got to the safe room, she interrogated me within an inch of my life. She stomped her foot and threatened to pull out the feeding tube. I caved and went with her to the interview room.”