Next Exit, Quarter Mile Page 26

  “I loved the classics,” she answered, looking out over the lake. “Still do.”

  They fell silent again, following the lake, their fingers still entwined and her shoulder occasionally brushing against his arm. Hawk was content to remain silent, enjoying the unexpected closeness with her and relishing the few moments away from the intrigue of terrorists and biochemical engineers. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, about her brother, about her, but he remained silent. Alina would talk when she was ready.

  “You asked what happened to make me question our relevance.” Her voice broke the silence without warning and she stopped to face the lake, staring over the moonlit expanse of moving water, her fingers stirring in his. “I was reminded of this. Dave and John...this place...my place here in Jersey. I remembered the feeling all those years ago when I realized I was alone. Dave was gone, John had moved on to greener pastures, and I was filled with panic. All I could think about was following Dave, discovering what he had experienced, and trying to build a life away from this. I gave all of this up for what? To chase a ghost?”

  “For something you believe in,” Damon answered softly.

  Alina cast him a thoughtful look.

  “Yes,” she agreed after a moment, turning to continue walking slowly, “but now I wonder if it's worth it.”

  “If what, exactly, is worth it?” he asked, falling back into step beside her.

  “The loneliness.”

  Hawk was so surprised by the answer that he stopped walking and stared at her. Viper stared back, the mask flawless.

  “I thought you liked being alone!” he exclaimed. “You complain about your nosy friends when you come back here.”

  Viper's lips twisted into that humorless smile that he knew so well.

  “I don't dislike being alone,” she replied. “I just...oh, forget I said anything.”

  She tried to continue walking but Damon held his ground, tightening his fingers on hers so she couldn't get away that easily.

  “Oh no,” he said, pulling her back. “Explain.”

  She looked up at him, clearly trying to decide what, if anything, to say. Damon simply stared back, waiting.

  “Well, look at everything we've given up,” she finally said with a slight shrug. “We exist alone. We work alone. We live alone. We eat alone. We sleep alone. We're always alone. And you're right, I like being alone when I'm working. I enjoy the autonomy. I like only having to worry about myself. It never bothers me until I come back here. It's New Jersey. It's suffocating me.”

  Viper spoke without any passion or emotion, simply stating facts as calmly and precisely as if they were discussing a mathematical equation. Hawk studied her, trying to see any hints in her eyes as to where this was coming from, but he saw only Viper.

  “I'm only going to ask this once more,” he finally said softly. “What happened?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly and she was silent for a long moment before she pulled her hand away from his and turned to face the lake, giving him her back.

  “John woke up,” she told him. “He was asking for me.”

  Hawk was silent, watching her. She stared over the water, her shoulders tense, and was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, she sounded almost angry.

  “He kept trying to apologize, determined to drag up the past.”

  “Well, you two have a history,” Damon said slowly, moving to stand beside her. “As much as you might wish otherwise, he is part of your life.”

  “Was,” came the sharp correction.

  “Was,” Damon conceded.

  “The whole conversation just seemed to underline how out of place I am here,” Alina said after a minute, her voice back to normal. “All of them, all of this, I set aside when I joined the Organization. I made the choice to move on so I could do what I knew had to be done. John lives with the memories, and embraces them. I want to forget them, but when I come back here, no one will let me. Stephanie, John, Angela...now Michael. It's like they're all trying to remind me of someone I don't know anymore, and all they're doing is making me feel more and more alone.”

  “And Dave?” he asked softly. “Do you want to forget him too?”

  Alina sighed and her shoulders seemed to sag slightly.

  “No,” she replied just as softly, turning to begin walking again. “Seeing Lani grieving for her brother brings back memories I wish I didn't have, but Dave is in my blood. He always will be.”

  “Tell me about Dave,” he said after a few minutes. “How did he die?”

  “You know how he died,” she replied shortly.

  Hawk shot her a look of amusement.

  “I know what you want me to know. Viper, I'm not blind. He was a gunny, a sniper. So are you. That's not coincidence.”

  Alina glanced at him sharply, then her lips curved ruefully in the moonlight.

  “Touché,” she murmured. “The Marines say he was shot by an insurgent during a search and rescue mission.”

  “And?” he prompted when she showed no signs of continuing.

  “And he took a bullet to the head,” Viper said impatiently, stopping and facing him. “Hawk, Dave is part of my past. Leave him there.”

  “How do you expect me to leave him there when you're there with him?” Damon demanded, unperturbed. “I can't be what you need me to be for you if you're not willing to let me in.”

  Alina stared at him, her eyes dark pools in the shadows, and he shrugged.

  “That's just how it is,” he told her softly. “I'm here because I want to be here. We can keep going the way we've been going, or we can move forward to something more. The choice is yours.”

  Damon turned and continued walking after delivering that ultimatum and Alina fell into step beside him silently. She wasn't completely rejecting his proposal. If he knew Viper, she was mulling over all the angles in her head and already thinking about contingency plans. His lips twitched. She'd eventually realize that resistance was futile, just as he had on a mountainside in Peru last year. Damon just hoped he was around when the lightning struck. He wanted to see the look on her face when her carefully planned and autonomous world shattered around her.

  “When I was in military intelligence, I stumbled across the case file of Dave's death,” she said slowly, breaking into his thoughts. Damon glanced at her with a raised eyebrow and she grinned unexpectedly. “Ok. I looked for it.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “An armor-piercing round went through his helmet,” Viper told him. “Given the velocity and impact point, along with the caliber, I estimate it came from over 600 meters away.”

  “Not an average insurgent, then,” Hawk murmured.

  “I've made enough of those shots since then to know how precise the shooter had to be,” she agreed. “Whoever fired that shot had a reason for wanting Dave dead.”

  “You never found that reason?”

  “No. The trail ended before it ever began,” Alina said with a shrug. “The whole area was a hotbed of activity and when they recovered his body, there was nothing to indicate it wasn't exactly what it appeared to be: an insurgent saw a shot and took it. Even Michael believes it, and he was only a few feet away.”

  “You didn't keep digging?”

  “Charlie recruited me a week later.”

  Damon nodded in understanding. The training was hell and she wouldn't have had time to pursue anything.

  “Is that why you're so partial to a rifle?” he asked. “Chasing ghosts?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Hawk nodded and Alina stopped walking, turning to look at him.

  “You want to know about Dave and my past, but that's all part of a life that isn't mine anymore,” she said. “The only reason it's even a question now is because we're here, and you see evidence of it every day. Don't make the mistake of thinking it reflects any part of me now. You're part of my now, not my then. Don't confuse them.”

  “Am I?” Damon asked softly. “Am I part of your now? Because I seem to
remember you saying that we exist alone, you and I.”

  “You know what I meant,” Alina muttered.

  She turned to resume walking and Damon took her hand again, his fingers entwining with hers firmly. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Alina staring out over the lake and Damon trying to understand what was going on in her head.

  “Buying the house here was a mistake.” Viper broke the silence suddenly. “I should have left after Three Mile Island and never looked back.”

  “Why? Because you have to live with your past?” Damon asked dryly. “We all have our demons, Viper, and we have to face them eventually.”

  Alina nodded in concession and fell silent again.

  “You're not alone now because you chose to leave New Jersey and your past behind,” Hawk told her after a moment. “You could have joined the Navy, met a sailor, got married and had five kids. You're alone because you choose to be. Our job is hard. It's demanding. No one would understand it, or tolerate it, and we can't expect them too. We're the shadows no one wants to think about, the weapon no one admits exists. We chose this. We chose it because we believe in what we're doing and we're good at it, but never mistake that we chose this life. That decision has nothing to do with your past demons. When you ask if it's worth it, what you're really asking is whether you made the right choice, and your past has no bearing on that answer.”

  They walked in silence, Viper looking out over the moonlit lake and Hawk lost in his thoughts.

  “You're right,” she finally said, dragging her gaze away from the water and glancing at him. “It doesn't.”

  Damon nodded and squeezed her fingers gently.

  “Besides, I'm kind of getting used to New Jersey,” he said with a grin. “It would be a shame for you to leave now.”

  Alina chuckled and came to a stop again.

  “Be careful,” she warned. “Jersey is like a fungus. By the time you realize it's growing on you, it's already taken over and you're doomed.”

  “Yet I get the overwhelming feeling that you love it,” Damon murmured.

  “I do,” Alina admitted with a reluctant nod, “but that doesn't mean I'll stay. I'm starting to think some things are better loved from a distance.”

  “And others can only be appreciated up close and personally,” he said, looking down at her. “That's something you have to decide for yourself. Just be aware that once you walk away, you can't come back.”

  Viper's lips tightened and her faint smile faded.

  “I know.”

  Hawk watched the smile fade, then his lips curved.

  “You know, if you'd rather stay alone, you probably shouldn't have come out to the ranch last fall,” he told her, his eyes dancing.

  “Meaning if I hadn't gone, you would have left me alone?”

  “Absolutely not, but I might have thought twice and approached things differently.”

  “Is that so?” Alina tilted her head and studied him, a smile playing with her lips. “How's that?”

  “I would have drugged you and dragged you to Peru.”

  Alina burst out laughing and Damon grinned, pulling her to him.

  “You can't get rid of me that easily,” he murmured. “Not then, not now, not ever.”

  “You don't really think we can make this work, do you?” Viper asked, her eyes dropping to his lips as her arms slid around his waist.

  Hawk smiled.

  “There's only one way to find out,” he replied, lowering his lips to hers.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Michael drained the last of his cold coffee and tossed the empty paper cup into the trash can under his desk with a grimace. Leaning back, he stretched his arms over his head and let out a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. A glance at his watch over his head told him it was well past time for a refill on the coffee, and perhaps time for breakfast as well. He'd arrived at the office before dawn broke and had been trying to find something, anything, to justify postponing the Presidential visit with Sgt. Ethan Curtis. So far, he hadn't uncovered a damn thing.

  Pushing his chair back, Michael stood up and stared down at his monitor with a frown. He hadn't been able to find any trace of three foreign nationals traveling east, but that was hardly surprising. There was no reliable way to track interstate travel without a make, model and license plate. He ran through train and airport logs without success. It would be another four hours at least until he could reasonably expect his contact in the Border Patrol to answer his phone and, until then, Michael could only hope that CBP had at least picked up which direction they were headed.

  He reached out and locked his computer before opening his drawer and pulling out his weapon and holster. He clipped them on and reached for the black sports jacket hanging off the back of his chair. A walk to the corner coffee shop would do him good and clear his head.

  Michael was closing his office door behind him when Chris came striding down the hallway from the elevators.

  “Morning, Mike!” he hailed him. “How long have you been here?”

  “Since five,” Michael answered, pausing beside his boss. “I'm just heading out for a refill on coffee. Do you want anything?”

  “I'll join you,” Chris announced, reversing direction and heading back toward the elevators. “I could use a bagel. Didn't have time to eat before I left this morning.”

  Michael raised an eyebrow but held his tongue as they walked toward the elevators together. If Chris wanted to get out of the office before he even got in, that was his business.

  “Have you heard from your folks lately?” Chris asked as they waited for a group to exit the elevator.

  Michael nodded in greeting to one of the women passing and glanced at Chris.

  “Sunday,” he replied. “Dad's going in for his hip surgery next week. When I talked to him, he'd just got off a ladder.”

  Chris chuckled and they stepped into the now-empty elevator.

  “What was he doing on a ladder with a bad hip?” he asked, pressing the button for the ground floor.

  “Cleaning the gutters,” Michael told him. “He said he wants it all done before he's laid up.”

  “He must give your mother fits.”

  “Just about,” Michael agreed. “I'll go up to help out the weekend after his surgery. That is, if she hasn't killed him already.”

  Chris nodded and they fell silent as the elevator descended to the ground floor. Michael was comfortable with the silence, his mind wandering back to the problem of the three terrorists at large in the vastness of the Southern part of the country.

  The elevator bumped to a virtually seamless stop and the doors slid open. Together, they stepped out onto the marble floor of the hallway and headed towards the street exit, moving against the current of people coming into the building.

  “You're heading the wrong way, O'Reilly!” a man called as he passed them in the alcove.

  “Already getting my second coffee, O'Brien! I've been here since five. You're slacking in your old age!”

  “Or you're just insane!” O'Brien responded promptly.

  Michael chuckled and he and Chris stepped outside onto the sidewalk, turning left to head to the coffee shop on the corner of the city block.

  “Did you learn anything to justify coming in at that ungodly hour?” Chris asked as the distance between them and the office building grew.

  “No.”

  “Well, your good Irish luck is holding up,” Chris told him. “The White House meeting with Sgt. Curtis may be postponed after all.”

  Michael glanced at him.

  “What? He's supposed to come tomorrow.”

  Chris nodded and they joined a crowd at the corner, waiting for the light to change so they could cross.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “He came down with the flu, apparently. Got sick last night.”

  “So now what?” Michael asked.

  The light changed and they moved with the sea of people, crossing the street and stepping onto the curb on the other side.

  “POT
US is trying to rearrange his schedule,” Chris said, reaching out and opening the glass door to the coffee shop. He held it for Michael to pass through before following him into the store. “Right now, they're hoping to reschedule for Sunday afternoon.”

  “He bought me three days,” Michael said, getting into the long line. “Hey, I'll take it.”

  “Do you think you can find something I can use?” Chris asked, his voice lowered. “Mike, I need something concrete.”

  “I know. I'm trying. The extra time will help,” Michael replied, matching his low tone.

  “Have you heard from the Black Widow?”

  “Not yet,” he said, amused despite himself. “I'll try getting her on the phone when we get back to the office.”

  “Do that,” Chris advised. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Michael had just settled behind his desk with his extra-large black coffee with a shot of espresso when his cell phone began to vibrate. He frowned and pulled it out of his pocket.

  “Hello?”

  “Top o’ the morning, gunny,” Viper's voice greeted him cheerfully. “How's the coffee?”

  Michael's eyes widened despite himself and he glanced around his empty office.

  “Hot. How did you know?” he demanded.

  “I watched you and your boss go into the store.”

  “You're in DC?” Michael exclaimed, surprised.

  “Just passing through,” she replied. “I have something for you. How's your security in that office?”

  “Efficient.”

  “So I can talk freely?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know what was being transported by Blake's Cartel up and down the seaboard,” Viper told him. “You were right. It's not good.”

  Michael's breath stilled for a beat.

  “What is it?” he asked, not liking the hesitation in her voice.

  “Bomb parts.”

  “WHAT?!” Michael roared.

  “Don't worry,” she said. “I've got the trigger, so they're useless right now.”

  “THEY?!?! There's more than one?!?!?” Michael got up impatiently and began to circle his desk with short, controlled strides.

  “Probably. I'm working on it. Calm down. You'll give yourself a coronary,” Viper added, sounding amused.