Leah Braemel - Deliberate Deceptions

Not to mention how he’d never replied to any of the letters she’d sent him that first year or the ones from Dr. Maudsley either. Had Thalia found some way to prevent Chad from getting them? Did it matter anymore?

She closed her eyes in an effort to calm the maelstrom raging inside. At her anger at Thalia for interfering. Her disgust at not discovering the deception for all these years burned with glowing embers of long-simmering resentment. Her rage against Harris burned brightly, its flames licking hungrily at her patience

“Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe she just saw the inevitable. We were already in counseling. Neither of us handled Emily’s death well. With Chad facing the inquiry and all that press…he was better off without having me distracting him.” She settled back in her seat.

She’d mourned the loss of her marriage as much as she’d mourned her daughter.

“So you’re not interested in resolving any issues between you and Chad? Seeing if there’s still a chance of having a relationship with him?”

God, don’t give her hope. It would only be torn from her the way it had been before. She couldn’t take losing Chad again. “Just how would we do that after all this time?”

Cooper laid out his plans quickly and succinctly, hope rising in her soul with each step he revealed. The hopes mingled with the thought that he was crazy. Or brilliant. Maybe both. His plan would keep her safe, as well as Chad. Plus, it would let her finally see Chad again, to find out if he hated her for being so weak that she’d walked away when he’d needed her most. No, not walked. She’d run away with her tail tucked between her legs. Cooper was right-she needed to see Chad face-to-face one last time. If for no other reason, to apologize. And explain.

Icy fingers of fear doused the flames. What if Cooper’s plan didn’t work? He leaned forward. “If you’re worried about Thalia interfering again, she’s been taken out of the equation. She and Spencer are staying with a friend of mine who can keep them safe until Harris is found.”

“What about Sam Watson? How are you going to explain about me considering he doesn’t know about the Brigade?” There were so many stumbling blocks to his plan, and Hauberk’s owner wasn’t the least of them. If he decided not to help, he’d move heaven and hell to keep her and Chad apart. Maybe he’d even known Thalia’s plan from the start.

“Ed Weir is on his way to Hauberk as we speak. That’s why we’re waiting here on the tarmac. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be getting back on the plane and flying off to wherever Hauberk plans on stashing you. Somewhere Chad will be your captive audience.”

Would it be possible to undo the ten years-more-of damage that distance and ill feelings had wrought between them? He hadn’t answered her question about whether Sam knew about his involvement with the Brigade.

“You’ll have that second chance at your marriage you told Brewer you wanted.”

Did she dare hope that? Or was it too late? Had too much time built a wall between them? Would it be too high for her to scale, to tear down and rebuild their marriage? Could they stay alive long enough to find out?

The last invoice stamped and initialed, Chad placed it on top of the rest in his out box with a sigh. Damned paperwork. It didn’t matter how much he signed today, there’d be a whole new pile waiting for him tomorrow.

He opened his top drawer and stared at the silver-framed photograph. Emily with her beautiful, toothless grin, her chubby fist clutching her favorite stuffed bear. Lauren holding Emily, her expression bright and proud. Who knew when that picture had been taken, less than a month later the chuckles and smiles would change to anguished sobs that, to this day haunted his dreams.

The day after he’d been served with the divorce papers, he packed the picture away. The following day he’d retrieved it. He’d compromised by tucking the frame where he could look at it without anyone else knowing. At least he’d managed to wean himself down to looking at it only a couple times a day instead of several times an hour.

“Got a minute?” Hauberk’s owner, Sam Watson, filled the doorway. Only the sharpness of his gaze belied the casual way he leaned against the frame. Sam probably knew about the picture and its hiding spot so why the hell did he bother with the deception?

Even so, Chad slid the drawer shut and nodded. “Of course.”

Sam closed the door behind him, then settled himself into one of the visitor’s chairs opposite Chad, the leather creaking beneath his weight.

They discussed the various reports that had come in the night before, the state of the new office Sam was setting up in Seattle, and a half dozen other unimportant topics that had Chad responding by rote. While Sam droned on, Chad rolled his pen in his fingers. The light fractured on the brushed gold, the engraved initials so worn they were barely legible. His sister Thalia had given it to him-crap, fifteen years ago. The day he’d graduated the FBI’s academy.

Sam pulled a cigar from his pocket and eyed it. “Damn, I wish I’d never promised Sandy I wouldn’t smoke during office hours.”

“You’re the boss. Tell her it’s your office and light up anyway.” He suppressed the smile that threatened to break out imagining their assistant’s righteous indignation. Sandy would have Sam quivering in a corner in a heartbeat.

As he’d expected, Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. Then she’d move all my files on my computer, or rename them so I couldn’t find anything.”

“More likely she’d serve you one of those flowery teas she likes. Force you to drink it in front of Jimbo Williams.” They both knew how one of their wealthiest and most influential clients judged a man by how he took his coffee.

“Shee-it. I can hear him now.” Sam adopted a nasal tone pitched two octaves higher than his usual bass. “No real man puts pansy-assed creamer or sugar in his coffee, Sammy, not if they’ve got a dick between their legs. Don’t send some pinky-wavin’ tea drinker to guard me either. You might as well cut off my nuts and call me Sally.”

Controlling the smile at Sam’s perfect imitation of their client, Chad carefully placed the pen so it lined up with his day planner. “Why are you here, Sam?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t come here to discuss Jimbo Williams.” He lined the day planner up at perfect angles to the blotter that was precisely in line with the desk edge. “Or the new office in Seattle. Or how the newbie screwed up last night.” He looked pointedly at Sam. “By the way, I will talk with him about that, not you.”

Sam grimaced and slid the cigar back in his pocket. “A little birdy told me that on Sunday the Post is running a ‘where are they now’ feature and you’re one of their targets.”

His balance tilted as if someone had hit him with a sledgehammer. “Aw fuck, Sam, you know they’ve played that angle before. Hell, the fires were still burning in the Pentagon when that headline hit.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam had been mentioned often enough but, according to press reports, he’d been following orders like a mindless robot. “I also know of the cases our office was handling back then, none involved any of those terrorists and there’s no way your decision was responsible for the attacks. You know the press. They’ve got to have their story and they’re ready to use any angle they can to boost their sales.”

Chad tilted his head to one side then the other in an effort to loosen the tightening neck muscles. “So we wait it out. It’ll be a headline for the weekend, then some other scandal will erupt and they’ll move on. Face it, Sam, it’s a non-event. I’m old news.”