Debra Webb - Past Sins

If she located the Phantom again he would be the one she would execute. Not an innocent target used to draw her back into the line of fire.

Gritting her teeth was the only way to hold back the litany of raging expletives hovering at the back of her throat. He had no right to do this. She’d already given up far too much because of him. The urge to jerk the necklace loose and throw it as far as she could was a palpable thing…but some idiotic, vulnerable female part of her wouldn’t allow her to break that link.

He had given it to her.

A soft ring of the telephone shattered the silence. She reached for the bedside extension before the second ring could disturb Jeffrey.

“Hello.” She kept her voice low, barely a whisper.

Silence.

“Hello.” Still nothing. She didn’t immediately hang up. Just listened. Someone was there—she could sense the presence—but he didn’t speak. He never did.

Then came the click signaling the end of the call.

Was the fact that the call had come only minutes after her return from meeting with Soderbaum significant? Possibly. She hung up the receiver. But this was not her first anonymous call. It was always the same. The phone would ring. She would answer and the caller would remain silent as if the single word she had uttered was the only reason he’d called—to hear her voice. There was no pattern to the calls. They came when they came. She had no idea who the caller was, but she wondered…foolishly.

Just as she often felt someone watching her.

And now she knew why.

He was back.

She couldn’t begin to imagine his objective just yet, but he would have one. Her fingers toyed with the one token she had kept from her past as her gaze drifted to the man sleeping next to her. She could not allow her past sins to intrude on his present. He had no idea who or what she had been three years ago. She had to stop this plunge toward disaster before Jeffrey got hurt.

She closed her eyes and summoned the image of the target Ned Soderbaum had given her a ten-thousand-dollar retainer to eliminate.

Why on earth would anyone want Jeffrey dead?

Unable to sleep, by 4:00 a.m. Olivia was on the Internet attempting to track down one Ned Soderbaum. It wasn’t easy since she had to do this the hard way, without any useful contacts.

She tugged up the shoulder of her silk robe, annoyed that it kept slipping down. Or maybe just annoyed. Who would have thought that after three years she would need this kind of information? It wasn’t as if a dead woman could attempt to log into the CIA’s database without causing a stir.

Nope. She was on her own. Even if her old user name and password worked, she wouldn’t risk revealing herself. Not if she wanted to stay alive. Apparently one too many people already knew she was alive. Why contact her now? After three years? She was too much of a realist to believe that the resurrection of her old persona was simply a coincidence, especially considering the target.

Olivia shifted the mouse and clicked, sending Google into yet another search. While she waited for the results she glanced at her weapon lying on the desk in front of the flat-panel monitor.

A cold sweat formed on her skin. Her heart rate jumped into a faster rhythm.

She hadn’t taken a human life in over three years. Could she still do it if the necessity presented itself?

A shaky breath rushed past her lips, making her doubt her ability to accomplish the feat she had once performed with scarcely a thought. That had been a different life…she’d been a different person.

The search results spilled across the screen, drawing her attention back to her task. One or two Soderbaums. Lots of Neds. But no Ned Soderbaum of Chicago. Her gut told her the guy didn’t exist. But she had to be sure. The proof was right in front of her. No businessman with enough clout to own his own jet would be thriving without at least one hit on Google.

She could hack into the Social Security Administration’s system as one final stab. She’d already looked at the Illinois DMV database and found nothing. What was one more infraction? She would cover her tracks pretty well, going through an anonymous user ID on Hotmail. Still, a state-level intrusion like the DMV records wouldn’t readily evoke an all-out search for the perpetrator, but a federal breach would bring on the big dogs. Homeland Security’s Net Defense Unit would follow the inevitable tracks until they located this very computer.

It was a chance she’d have to take.

A few more clicks of the keys and she had her answer. No Ned Soderbaum in Illinois, period.

The man had either lied about his name or he didn’t exist. If he’d simply lied about his name, that wasn’t such a big deal, but if he was using an alias, that was a whole different matter. Not using his real name at the moment she asked would have been about fear. Using an alias carried the idea of premeditation, a strategic maneuver to mislead her. Which screamed of a setup.

Still, if this was an Agency-sanctioned operation, why hadn’t they done their homework and given the guy a history to go with the alias? Ensuring a cover was verifiable was Spy 101 stuff.

There was only one answer. Because they wanted her to know she’d been made.

Or…the real threat could be to Jeffrey, and whoever had sanctioned the operation had no idea that research scientist Dr. Jeffrey Scott lived with a former CIA assassin. That didn’t make sense, either, since Soderbaum, or whoever the hell he was, had used her former code name…had mentioned an old enemy. Not to mention that in order for that concept to fly, she was back to the idea of a coincidence and she was a total nonbeliever in the theory. Not when she was the hired assassin.

She knew of only one way to get to the bottom of this.

Olivia leaned back in her chair and let go a heavy breath. She’d have to contact Hamilton.

The name ricocheted through her. David Hamilton had been and still was the deputy director of the CIA’s field operations. If an op was under way he would know about it. But why hadn’t he warned her if she was in danger?

After all, the fact that she was even alive was his doing. Why fail her now?

Too many questions, not nearly enough answers.

It would be daylight soon. There were things she had to do. She grabbed her Beretta and strode into the bedroom. Jeffrey still slept soundly. After placing the weapon into her handbag, she sat down on his side of the bed.

“Jeffrey.” She shook him gently, then turned on the bedside lamp. “Jeffrey, we need to talk.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she would get him to go along with her plan, but she had to convince him somehow. Both their lives likely depended upon his cooperation. Though at this point she couldn’t say for an absolute certainty whether this was about him or her. He was a research scientist at a top pharmaceutical corporation. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone had targeted him for some reason related to his work, government affiliated or not. Still, the involvement of her former identity had her leaning more toward something far less straightforward.

The moment his eyes opened he took note of the time on the alarm clock on the bedside table not twelve inches from his head. “It’s early.” He shifted his groggy attention to Olivia. “Is something wrong? How’s your patient?”

With a weary smile tacked into place, she lied, “He’s stable and thoroughly apologetic for causing the fuss.” Evidently Jeffrey thought she’d only just returned from the hospital. Remnants of the lie she’d just told soured in the back of her throat.

Jeffrey scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Aren’t they always? Did you just get in?”