Leah Braemel - Deliberate Deceptions

It is what it is. How he hated that phrase. Nothing was as it should be. The anger, the ire, drained from Chad as if Troy had pulled a plug, leaving him with an emptiness that was even worse. “I keep thinking I should have seen something, some sign.”

Troy squeezed his shoulder. “Lauren feels the same way. Not about you being responsible, but that she should have seen something too. You two need to talk before you leave, about that if nothing else.”

“How would you know?”

“I just do.”

They’d been stuck on a plane together for hours with nothing to do. If Troy had recognized her, maybe they’d talked. He closed the cover on his suitcase and zipped it shut. Stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.

What about tomorrow night? Or last night? Or the night before? She’d been the one to run away last time, now he was walking away from her. Self-preservation, instinct, he didn’t know which was placing the suitcase by the door, but he’d be damned if he’d let her rip his heart from his chest again.

Maybe that was the question he should be asking himself: why did she still have the power to hurt him after all these years?

“Because you still love her. More’s the pity.”

He stared at Troy. “What?”

“You asked how she still had the power to hurt you.”

He’d said that out loud?

“I know you look at that picture in your desk a half dozen times a day. You still love her.” Troy tapped the top of Chad’s suitcase. “So, what are you going to do about it? You going to run? Because that hasn’t worked for either of you so far, has it?”

From the brightness of the clouds overhead, the sun was up on the other side of the mountains, though it had yet to reach the lower edges of the hill. A thick mat of pine needles and already-fallen leaves littered the path, crunching beneath her feet as Lauren jogged along the path. She ducked beneath an overhanging branch, taking care to make sure it didn’t fling back into her companion’s face.

She’d hoped to slip out of her room that morning without anyone noticing. But as soon as her door had opened, Andy had stepped out. The lack of time between his door opening and hers made her wonder if he’d been listening for her. Then she noticed the camera mounted on the wall opposite her door. Not listening. Watching.

She glanced back to assess him. Like her, he’d dressed for the occasion, although his holster held a Glock whereas hers had a Sig Sauer. Something about the way he carried himself told her he’d not be afraid to use it. An intricate full-arm tattoo flowered from beneath his tee’s sleeve, stopping just above the wrist. Probably so it wouldn’t show beneath a dress shirt. “How far do you normally run?”

Andy ducked beneath a tree branch before he answered, “About five K. I run more on the weekends.”

They’d run the perimeter of the compound-or the estate, as Chad referred to it-twice, which meant they were approaching the length of a regular run for them both. Although there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, Andy wasn’t breathing hard yet, which gave her the impression “more” probably meant he ran marathons. What impressed her most was that they weren’t running on a smooth city sidewalk. The rough trail they followed wound its way up and down the side of the…well, it was more than a hill but less than a mountain. They were high enough that the air was thinner than in D.C. Not as thin as in Colombia, but Andy wasn’t showing any signs of having trouble getting enough oxygen.

Face it, she told herself, the man was in shape. Chad had chosen his people well.

Pounding on the track behind them had her turning and ducking behind the nearest tree. Her hand was still reaching for her holster when she realized Andy already had his gun drawn and his body placed between her and whoever was intent upon catching them. Two seconds later, Troy jogged into sight and Andy lowered his weapon. “Hey, boss, what’s up?”

Troy hardly looked at his man as he spoke, his focus completely on Lauren. “I’ll take over here. Why don’t you get some grub?”

His gun holstered, Andy nodded and sprinted off toward the main house.

Lauren stepped back onto the path, watching him disappear down the hill. “He’s good.”

“He is. Damned good. But I wasn’t the one who hired him initially. That was all your ex-husband’s doing.” With the emphasis on ex. “Thought you should know-Chad’s asked to be reassigned.”

Shit. “You can’t let him leave. Not if you want him to stay alive.”

His hand slapped arrhythmically against his thigh as he stared off in the distance, no doubt considering the same ramifications and alternatives they’d already gone over. “How long do you think you’re going to be able to fool him?”

“Hopefully until we catch Harris.”

He turned a bland look on her. “That’s not what I was referring to.”

This was not a conversation she wanted to have. With a sigh, and a silent prayer that Troy wouldn’t follow, Lauren reversed her course.

“Running won’t help. I want an answer and I want it now.”

“I’ll answer your question once we’re farther away. I don’t want Chad overhearing this conversation.” She pushed on, speeding up if he got too close. The muscles in Lauren’s legs ached, protesting each step she took as the path led back up the side of the hill.

“You’re not going to lose me if that’s what you’re hoping,” he said finally, not even breathing heavily, goddamn him. “Now tell me, when are you going to tell him the truth?”

“After we neutralize the threat.” Then she’d lock them both in her room until he agreed to give their marriage another chance. Or he’d convinced her there was no way she deserved one. Which was more likely.

He slapped at the branch she’d pushed out of her way but threatened to hit him. “Why don’t you just tell him the truth? It’s his life-he should get a choice in how it plays out.”

“So why didn’t you say something to him in the office when the arrangements were being made? You could have told him last night too, but you didn’t.” If he had, Chad wouldn’t be sleeping at the desk in his bedroom the way he had been when she’d checked on him.

Troy cursed again. “Let’s get this straight; I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for him. Poor bugger’s been through enough without Cooper and you playing mind games on him. He’s had enough of that, don’t you think?”

She’d had enough mind games to last her a lifetime. Thalia’s. Cooper’s. Was that what she was doing to Chad? Manipulating him? No. Other than keeping him safe, once Harris was found, she’d accept whatever decision he made. For better or worse. She ducked under an overhanging branch. “It’s not a game.”

He grabbed her and forced her to face him. “You know what I don’t get? You work for an organization that’s sanctioned both by the feds and the U.N. for all you try to claim it’s not associated with any of them. Which means you probably have a safe house or two of your own hidden away. Why not just grab Chad and protect him yourselves?”

“That’s not our style.”

“Bullshit.” His gaze hardened. “You’ve been infiltrated, haven’t you? Harris is one of your guys, isn’t he?”

She turned her back on Troy and started running again. If he wanted to continue the conversation, he’d have to follow her. Which the bastard did, damn it.

“What? Didn’t like being questioned? Fine, you’ll have to answer Chad’s questions later.”

“I know.” God help her then.

“Here’s another question for you: why did you do this? Arrange to be placed in the same facility as him? Weir’s story could have served its purpose-we could have guarded you separate from him. But you guys manipulated us just so you two would be put together. Why is that?”