Reckless Endangerment (22 page)

Michael met her gaze from across the room.  Dressed in jeans and a familiar T-shirt, chocolate brown hair a mess from where her hands had roamed less than an hour ago, he looked like a man well-loved and relaxed. 

“You have some explaining to do,” Becky said as she stormed through the front door of the loft with Dude wiggling beneath her arm.  Her mad energy zapped through the room like wild bolts of lightening.  She dropped Dude before reaching into her purse and pulling out an envelope.  “I have federal agents following my family and yet this arrived on my doorstep.”

She hesitated before breaking eye contact with Michael, not really wanting to snap back into work mode yet.  With a sigh, she carefully set her mug down before turning toward her sister.  Devon and Marshall already walked toward her, their instincts sharper than hers these days.  Another envelope.  She knew what that meant.  Without looking at Becky, she dumped out the contents.  Pictures of her nephews, their faces crossed out with red marker.  A note simply said:
Tell your sister to get her priorities straight.

“What the hell is going on?”  Becky plopped onto a stool and leaned her elbows against the counter.  When she turned her head to look around the room, she noticed Michael eating Chinese food on the sofa.  “How?  What?  He’s not supposed to be here. How did he get here?  You’re a real menace.”

“He told me he confessed,” she answered with more cool than she felt.  “This is his home, he wanted to check it out.”

“Check it out?”  Becky shoved her hands through her spikes and closed her eyes.  “My children have their faces crossed out, some crazy man got close enough to my house to leave this crap, and my patient who should be at the institute is eating Chinese on your sofa.  Could this day get any worse?”

“You could get a speeding ticket or something,” Devon added without looking up from the pictures.  “I wonder when he took these.  Was it today?  Were your boys wearing these clothes this morning?”

Becky looked between them both with exasperation before pushing away from the counter and stalking toward Michael.  “You can’t just leave the institute without the proper paperwork being completed and approval from your doctor.  Do you know the damage you could be doing to yourself right now?  You could be undoing all the progress we’ve made this week.”

She stared at her sister’s back with compassion.  Becky wasn’t used to this kind of drama and no one should be.  Glancing back at the photographs, she felt an all too familiar tinge of guilt for endangering anyone close to her.  That had never been her intent. 

“We’ll give this to the FBI.” She nodded to Devon who was already dialing the number of the agent they had spoken to the other day.  “Sit down.  Have a glass of wine.  Relax.”

“Wine?” Becky sank onto the edge of the curving sofa and stared at Michael who had the grace to look like a bad boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  “Nice clothes, Colonel.  New?”

“Old and new.”  He grinned over his glass of water. “Hope brought my things from Afghanistan.”

“Of course she did. That’s the wifely thing to do,” Becky muttered while gazing around the still mostly empty space.  “You can get around here easily.  I see it now.  It’s so obvious.  This huge loft, the pulling of the strings to move you to the top of the list, the bias in that article—”

“There was no bias in that article, why do people keep saying that?” She handed Becky a glass of wine before taking a seat on the chair opposite them all.  When everyone laughed, she smiled.  “Okay, so maybe there was a tinge of bias.”

“A tinge?”  McGee tipped his head back and laughed.  “My God.  It was like reading about Superman.”

“You’re just jealous because I purposely kept you out of it after you hauled me out of Frankfurt like a sack of garbage.” She winked at him so that he knew she was over the episode. 

“Stop laughing.”  Even though she smiled, worry shadowed her eyes.  “We shouldn’t be laughing when someone is trying to kill Hope.”

No one laughed at that. 

“No one is trying to kill me, Becky.”  She brushed off the chill that slid up her spine.  “I’m just doing a story that will be over soon.”

All eyes on her, she looked toward Devon for help.  Devon paced the far end of the room, still talking to the FBI on her phone.  Marshall walked toward her office, expression distracted and serious.  Dude dodged and slipped behind his heels. 

She wanted to stop time, hit rewind and go back to the momentary glimpse of normalcy.  Biting her lip, she stared into her cup of coffee and willed herself to snap out of it.  Nostalgia wasn’t her style.  She was the badass war correspondent turned investigative reporter...she couldn’t afford to lose her edge.  Or could she?  She pushed a hand through her hair and closed her eyes for a minute. 

“I can’t believe you’re married,” Becky said quietly.  “Why didn’t you tell me? I know what he said…about the need for secrecy and you respecting him…but I’m your sister.  Why didn’t you tell me?”

So many reasons.  With a glance toward Michael, she sighed before smoothing a hand over the silky material of her pajama pants without answering. 

“I wouldn’t have told anyone else.” Becky folded her legs beneath her and sipped the wine.  “I wouldn’t have.  I never told mom about you sneaking out almost every night  your senior year.”

“No, but you blackmailed me with that knowledge constantly.” 

“Yeah, well, a sister’s gotta do what a sister’s gotta do.”

“What’d she blackmail you into doing?” Michael asked.

“The question is...what
didn’t
she blackmail me into doing.  She’s a bully, in case you haven’t noticed,” she answered.


“Me?  I’m not a bully, just a woman who gets shit done,” Becky responded.

“You two are scarily similar.”  Michael winked at her. 

“No, we’re not,” they answered simultaneously.

“Okay, maybe we are...a little bit.” Becky sipped her wine before sliding her gaze over the living room again.  “So why didn’t you tell me about why you were moving back here, about Michael, about all of it?  Why didn’t you tell me I had a jerk of a brother-in-law who would be coming to the institute?  I could have mentally prepared for the challenge.” 

She looked at Becky and sighed.  They hadn’t been close since childhood.  Always running, that’s what her family said of her.  Always chasing the spotlight.  Well, maybe they had been partially right.  Maybe she had always been searching for validation that she was good enough, worthy enough, deserving enough. 

“I thought he would reject me in the end,” she said with raw honesty, “I wanted to spare myself the embarrassment.  It was hard thinking that he didn’t want me anymore, that our marriage would be over before it ever got a chance to begin and I didn’t want to explain that to anyone.  I thought I failed…and you all know how I hate that.”

McGee walked into the kitchen.  Michael sighed and reached for his beer.  Becky looked at her with a soft expression in her eyes. 

“Well, you’re wrong,” Becky finally said.  “I would never have thought you failed.  I would have thought that you married an incredible ass who didn’t have the intelligence of a one-eyed frog to know a good thing when he had it.”

“Yeah, I’m right here.  I can hear you.” He shook his head.

“I see that and you need to be getting back before Nurse Rita discovers that you’re missing.  You’re already on probation.  There are—”

“Many deserving candidates on the list who want my spot. I know.”  He took a long drink of his beer before nodding toward McGee.  “We need to go.  Field trip’s over.”

Devon walked toward them, her face solemn.  “The agents will escort you home, Becky.  They’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Downstairs?  That’s fast,” Becky muttered.

She nodded, keeping her gaze locked on the whispering between Devon and Marshall.  Something more was up.  Tension ate up the room.  From the look Devon gave her, she knew that it was trouble.  With a sigh, she rubbed her fingers against her forehead. 

“So that’s it?  You’re kicking me out just when we’re finally having an honest discussion?”  Becky blew out a long sigh, but her eyes were kind.  “I get it.  Big shot reporter chasing down some bad guys for the greater good, is that it?”

“Something like that.” She met Michael’s gaze as he moved effortlessly from the sofa to his chair.  “He certainly has skills.  We’re hoping he can start spending the nights here.”

“Beginning tomorrow night,” he added. 

Becky looked around the loft with a tired smile.  “All the planning you’ve done for this man, all the waiting…what an ass you are, Colonel.  What were you thinking?  You could have had this all along?”

“Can’t wait for those holiday dinners,” he said.

“I have no idea why you married him.  I see no redeeming qualities at all,” Becky said with a teasing gleam in her eye. “Sure. Take him off of our hands.  There will be a stack of paperwork, though, and we all know how much you love paperwork. It’s probably better for him to be here anyway. He can take care of that creature you call a pet while you traipse off chasing a lead.  Good luck with that, Colonel.”

“Look forward to it.”  He paused in front of Hope and grabbed her hand.  “Can I call you later or will you be off doing something dangerous?”

“No comment.” He knew her too well.

“Well, get the danger over with tonight because tomorrow you’ll have your husband to manage.”  Becky surprised her with a hug.  “Are my kids going to be safe?  Just tell me that.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your children are safe, Becky.  Trust me, okay?” She hugged her back and sighed.  But images of other children filled her vision, dead children in a van, murdered children at her feet in a war zone.  She squeezed her eyes closed and willed them to go away.  They stayed like persistent ghosts demanding justice.

“Okay.  I trust you.”  Becky squeezed her and held on a few more seconds. “I like your husband, but don’t tell him.  We still have a lot of work to do.”

“I won’t tell him.  I promise.”  Tears welled in her eyes.  Annoyed with herself for the constant tears lately, she turned away before Becky could see them.  “Um…McGee and Michael will go with you.  The agents will meet you downstairs.”

“Hey.”  Michael pulled on her hand, but she wouldn’t look down at him.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  She focused on Dude nibbling at the toe of her slipper. “You had better get back.  I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Oh my God, if they didn’t leave now they would all know what a mess she truly was.  Tremors stirred down deep in her soul. Anxiety swelled, surging toward the surface.   Not willing to say anymore good-byes, she turned her back on them all, walked into the bathroom in her room, locked the door, sank to the floor and shoved a closed fist over her mouth to hold back the silent sobs that rocked her shoulders.   

All those images.  All those children. Dead. 

She was such a liar, such a fraud.  She pushed it down, fought for control.  She demanded such honesty from everyone around her, yet kept so many secrets of her own. 

* * * *

“You and Shane seem to have made up,” McGee said as he drove the mini-van back to the Institute.  “It’s good to see. 

He chewed on his knuckles, mind racing for clues as to what had happened in those last few minutes with Hope.  He knew how fragile she was beneath the wild façade.  She was cracking.  Guilt for not being there for her—for not allowing her to be with him—these past few months ate away at him. 

“Let’s follow them,” he said without thinking. 

“Follow who?  Shane?” McGee tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.  “We can’t.  We need to get you back, remember?  Your medication?  Nurse Rita?  Probation?”

For a career military man, he had grown to loathe rules almost as much as Hope did.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong back at the loft. 

“We’re not following them, Colonel.” McGee looked remorseful when he met his gaze.  “You look like hell.  I didn’t want to say anything at Hope’s, but you aren’t up for following anyone tonight, sir.”

He sighed.  He knew McGee was right about his physical condition, could feel the constant pain tearing up his back, knew he had pushed it too far today.  He rubbed his hands over his jeans.  He remembered hiding them away in Hope’s hotel room.  That dusty, run down hotel room had been an oasis.  A place to love, talk, strip free of the uniform for a few hours. 

“We had one helluva good time in Mykonos, didn’t we?” he asked without realizing he had spoken out loud.

“We certainly did, Colonel.”  McGee drove through downtown Denver with a grin on his face.  “One of the best times of my life.  Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Seems like yesterday for me when I think about it.  Remember how Peter insisted on throwing me that bachelor party and we all ended up cliff diving drunk on ouzo?”

“Yeah...and then we ended up running from the police because we were trespassing.  God, how would that have looked?  Marines being tossed into a Greek prison while on leave?”