Silent Evidence: Evidence #8 Page 13

  He didn’t like the idea of her hiking the trail with a guy who wasn’t him, but that was his problem to deal with in silence.

  He took her hand as they walked the short distance to the sign. It was a crisp fall day; the bright yellow leaves glowed in the sunshine. A crisp breeze shook dry leaves, and with her hand in his, he suddenly felt…lighter.

  This was a fun day to celebrate and play with a group of friends. He was with a beautiful woman, in a beautiful place. It really didn’t get better than this.

  They positioned themselves in front of the trail marker, and he pulled out his cell phone. They put their faces together. His other arm cradled her waist, holding her to his side. Before he hit the button, he said, “We should kiss for the photo.”

  He didn’t plan it. Didn’t even know where the words came from, but she turned her head to meet his lips. He hit the button on the screen. He still had one arm in the air with his phone in his grasp as he tightened his arm around her back, pulling her flush against him as her mouth opened under his.

  He wasn’t sure who deepened the kiss. Under oath, he’d say it was simultaneous. Spontaneous. All he really knew was he was kissing Hazel. His tongue stroked hers, and she tasted sweet and crisp—just like the fall day.

  He slid his phone in his back pocket and wrapped his arms around her on autopilot. He couldn’t name the moment when her arms slipped around his neck and her fingers ran over his bare scalp.

  How many times had he fantasized about this? How many times had he imagined what it would be like to make love to her? One thing he knew after finally having a taste, his fantasies could never compare to the real thing.

  She made a small sound in the back of her throat, a soft moan that would have him pinning her to a wall if they weren’t outside, next to a road at a trailhead.

  A car approached, and he raised his head, glad to see it wasn’t one of their group. He wanted no mistake on her part. This kiss—their first real kiss—hadn’t been for show. It might’ve started that way, but he put the camera away the moment things got real.

  He looked down at her face and saw the confusion in her eyes, and all at once, he remembered how vulnerable she was. How she’d just been talking about the worst aspect of her job. And he felt like a shit for taking advantage.

  He gave her a smile and released her. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t plan that.”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m just as guilty as you of getting carried away. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No. It’s fine. You’re fine. That was—” He had no clue what to say. The truth? That was fucking amazing. I want to lift you up and pin you to a tree and screw your brains out. I want to go down on you and make you come apart. I want to spend days exploring your body until I’ve catalogued every freckle and know how to make you come hard and fast, then again in a slow, sustained release that goes on and on until your body quakes at my slightest touch.

  Want hit him with a new intensity. But then, he’d wanted Hazel for years and he’d finally gotten a taste. He should have seen this coming. He cleared his throat. “The kiss was great, but probably a bad idea.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  He stepped back. “On to the museum?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He didn’t even remember the drive to the Confederate museum. Their photo in front of the sign was perfunctory. No foolish suggestion of kisses. What had he been thinking?

  They arrived at the beer museum to see the bride and groom with Luke, Undine, Trina, and Keith. He shook off the fog that had surrounded him from the moment his tongue slid inside Hazel’s mouth. This was why they were here. To play with friends. Win a prize. Celebrate Ian and Cressida.

  He was not supposed to get distracted by his fake girlfriend.

  He was her bodyguard, nothing more. It didn’t help that he was starting to agree with Hazel. Isabel was the obvious target. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his job and do it well.

  He held her hand as they approached the others, who stood in front of the museum entrance. Trina greeted them with a grin. “You’ve got twenty minutes to go through the museum before our lunch reservations in the taproom down the block.”

  He smiled at Ian. “You going inside or heading to the restaurant?”

  “Going in,” Cressida said, looping her arm through Hazel’s and pulling her away. “We’ll see you inside.”

  Sean laughed and released Hazel. “Don’t forget, we need to get a picture at some point, Haze.” He turned to Trina. “You saw us here, in case she forgets.”

  Trina shrugged. “Rules are rules.”

  “And you’re making them up as you go along,” Keith said.

  She grinned. “Only a little bit.”

  Ian glanced toward the door, then lowered his voice. “We need to talk about Hazel and what she knows. About Matt.”

  Sean had been expecting this. Of the sixteen people on this road trip, Hazel was the only one who had no idea Matthew Clark was actually Dimitri Veselov, her sister’s abductor and former Russian spy and assassin.

  Hazel had played an unwitting but important role as the person who’d witnessed Ivy and Matt’s “first” meeting. Now, her presence could complicate matters, given that Luke and Matt had been friends in one of Matt’s previous lives.

  “To the best of my knowledge, she knows nothing,” Sean said.

  Luke gave a sharp nod. “Good. We don’t want anything to happen that could screw up the adoption. It would crush all three of them if Julian were sent into foster care. And if the GRU gets even a hint that Dimitri is still alive, it’s all over.”

  Ian clapped Sean on the back. “We’re counting on you to keep Hazel distracted. Probably best to keep her away from Ivy and Matt while Luke is here.”

  Considering Hazel didn’t want her sister to know she was lying about her relationship with Sean, that wouldn’t be too hard. He nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

  Ian’s gaze fixed on the door his fiancée and Hazel had stepped through. “I like Hazel. Always have.” Then he frowned. “Don’t screw this one up.”

  “This from the guy who needed relationship coaching the night we met.”

  “Just returning the favor, man.”

  Another car pulled up. Ivy and Matt had arrived. They joined the group in front of the museum. “Shocking that of all the museums between DC and West Virginia, everyone is going for the beer museum,” Ivy said.

  “It’s all about priorities,” Luke said.

  “Where’s Hazel?” she asked Sean.

  He nodded toward the door. “Inside with Cressida.”

  Ivy smiled and took his hand. “I’m so excited to see you two together.”

  A lot of people were going to be crushed when he and Hazel staged their breakup. That didn’t sit well with him. Worse, he might be one of the crushees.

  “I’ve been waiting for this since Grand Cayman,” Ivy added.

  “She was in Croatia the whole time,” he couldn’t help but point out.

  She laughed. “Yeah, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still hoping for this.”

  “No pressure or anything,” Luke said with a laugh.

  Ivy rolled her eyes. “You guys didn’t see what I saw in Grand Cayman.”

  Matt draped an arm around her shoulder. “When did you have time to spy on Hazel and Sean? If I remember correctly—”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “We were there for a few days before you showed up. Sean and Hazel bickered the entire time. It was adorable.”

  Adorable wasn’t exactly how Sean remembered it, but he’d let Ivy have her rose-tinted memory.

  They all entered the museum together, and no one was surprised when the rest of their group arrived over the course of the next twenty minutes. They took turns grabbing selfies in front of the museum, and then found a passerby to take a photo of the entire group together, with Ian and Cressida in the middle. Sean put an arm around Hazel after steering her away from Ivy and Matt. />
  He felt guilty for lying to everyone—even Hazel wasn’t safe from his lies. But still he smiled for the photo because his heart felt strangely light every time he had Hazel MacLeod in his arms.

  12

  They sat at a long table in the taproom for lunch, Hazel squeezed between Sean and Mara. Years ago, Mara had worked for the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command, which, in the way of the US military, now had a new name and acronym, Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency, or DPAA. Mara had been a forensic archaeologist for DPAA and traveled the world to recover the remains of servicemen and women who had been lost in past conflicts. Prior to that, she’d done a stint in Bosnia excavating a mass grave, victims of the genocide.

  Hazel had always felt a kinship with Mara, knowing the woman had faced the same kind of atrocity Hazel had seen in the field. Today, Mara had grabbed the seat by Hazel’s side and taken her hand. “I heard you had a hard time in Croatia. I just wanted you to know I’m always available if you want to talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”

  All at once, the woman’s kindness made her eyes tear. “Thank you. I might take you up on that later.”

  Mara smiled and grabbed her menu, then she said in a whisper, “So you and Sean…?”

  “I can hear you, Mara,” Sean said.

  “I’m just asking what everyone is wondering. Hazel has only been back for what, a week?”

  “Twelve days,” Hazel said.

  “I work fast,” Sean added. “I wasn’t about to let anyone else swoop in.”

  That sounded a lot better than he was being paid to be her boyfriend. But then, the kiss in front of the trail marker had told a different story. It had been spontaneous and real. He hadn’t been putting on a show for anyone, and neither had she. She’d had some pretty spectacular kisses over her thirty-five years, but that one was in a class all its own.

  Sean Logan had kissed her as if he wanted nothing more than to take her against a tree.

  Then afterward, he’d retreated. Awkward. Nervous. Regretful.

  When this ridiculous charade was all over, she would download an online dating app and find a guy and get laid. She’d do whatever it took to get over the heartache of Sean Logan not wanting her.

  Two waiters delivered their drinks, and they all shared another toast to friends and love, and she returned her focus to where it belonged, this gathering of people who were so touchingly welcoming.

  The group energy was vibrant, and she was lucky to get to witness it, even as an outsider. Even better, no one here was making her feel like an outsider. And she knew what ostracism felt like. She was a nerdy MacLeod sister, after all.

  She watched her sister at the far end of the table on the opposite side. Sitting next to Matt, her eyes lit with laughter, her cheeks flushed with joy. A few years ago, Hazel had feared Ivy would be swallowed whole from the grief of her broken marriage and then the horror of learning her ex was a monster who trafficked weapons with terrorists. Then she’d gone through an ordeal in Palau that she still hadn’t fully shared.

  That Ivy had found love and joy after all that was a gift Hazel hadn’t dared to believe would come true. She was thankful to Matt for his part in putting roses in her sister’s cheeks, and grateful Ivy had their soon-to-be-adopted son, Julian, to love.

  Plus it wasn’t lost on Hazel that Ivy was drinking sparkling water, not beer. Ivy had wanted a baby for years, and that she might fulfill that dream with Matt made Hazel bloom with happiness for her sister.

  Ivy’s transformation gave Hazel hope. If Ivy could survive her ordeals and come out on top, surely Hazel could overcome a few nightmares.

  Across the table, Alec was looking at his phone, his brow furrowed.

  “You promised you wouldn’t work today,” Isabel said.

  “Checking email isn’t work.”

  At least three people snorted.

  “Nice try,” Curt said.

  “Oh, hell. That prick Small is hosting a rally today.”

  “Senator Small?” Isabel asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is he the one who used to be a”—Lee held up his fingers in air quotes—“‘correspondent’ for the white supremacist conspiracy theory website? What’s it called?”

  “Voigt Forum,” Sean said.

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Alec said.

  Curt stiffened. “I can’t believe the Justice Department dropped their investigation of him.”

  Alec gave Curt a look that spoke volumes, and Hazel wondered if Alec had initiated some sort of secret investigation of his fellow senator.

  “What’s the purpose of the rally?” Isabel asked.

  “It’s a variation on the ‘white lives matter’ theme.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In a small town down the road from Moorefield, West Virginia.”

  Hazel perked up. There were a lot of points to be had in Moorefield, with their Civil War battle site and historic district. “So it’s on our route.”

  “Sort of. Off the main road a few miles, but close. It starts in two hours.”

  “Hey, Treen, how many points for crashing a white supremacist rally?” Lee asked.

  “Twenty-five.”

  “We’re heading to Ian and Cressida’s wedding. We can’t stop and counterprotest,” Erica said.

  “Hey, there’s nothing I like more than punching Nazis,” Ian said.

  “I’m in,” Cressida said. “Just promise no bruises on your face.”

  “I’ll protect him, Cress,” Matt said. “My face can take it.” Matt had scars along one cheek and a lump on the bridge of his nose, souvenirs from a car accident he’d been in a year before he met Ivy.

  Trina laughed. “Best. Wedding. Ever.”

  “Does the rally count as one of our seven stops?” Undine asked.

  “Sure,” Trina said, “if you haven’t got all seven already.”

  “Wouldn’t going to the rally be a Hatch Act violation for you, Alec?” Lee asked.

  “Nah. It’s not a campaign rally. I’m sure there’ll be some sort of censure from the Senate, but frankly, I don’t really give a damn. They can censure me all they want, but Small is the one with ties to white supremacist groups.”

  Hazel looked at Sean. As a Black man—who was currently very publicly dating a white woman—he risked the most in showing up at the rally, and fear jolted through her at the thought of him being the target of a mob. “Do you want to go? We can skip it.”

  “And let Ian get twenty-five points ahead? No way.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” He glanced across the table and met Alec’s gaze. They shared some sort of silent mental exchange, then he gave his secret boss a sharp nod.

  Whatever that meant, she knew one thing for certain from the way the muscles in Sean’s jaw bunched. There was no dissuading him from making this stop. And now she wondered if the senator had anything to do with the heavily redacted letter Alec had received.

  They picked up their twenty-five points in Moorefield—the other teams had already made six stops, forcing them to bypass the historic district in favor of the rally. Sean figured this clinched the win for Hazel and him.

  After snapping their photo, they continued on to the town where the senator was holding his rally. Sean had been surprised at Rav’s decision to go, given the hint he’d allowed that Senator Small could be connected to the threatening letter. He’d pulled Rav aside when they left the restaurant. Rav confirmed he wanted to rattle the other senator. The last thing Small would expect was for the junior senator from Maryland to crash his rally. Odds were Rav would draw more headlines from the act than Small would get from headlining the event.

  Rav was playing spoiler, pure and simple. He wasn’t up for reelection for another three years, and he wasn’t dependent on campaign donations to fund his run. He wasn’t in politics for money or power. He really just wanted to make a difference.

  Meanwhile, Small was facing a difficult primary next year and there were questions about some of his business deals
. Rav showing up at his rally and drawing attention to the negative aspects of his top supporters while tossing attention to Small’s challenger would steal some of the shine from the old racist’s day.

  Sean was all for making racists unhappy.

  “What’s the deal with Senator Small?” Hazel asked. “Does Alec think he’s behind the threat?”

  Rav had been insistent about keeping Hazel in the dark, and Sean had no idea how his suspicions of Matthew fit in. “I don’t know. He dislikes the man. He mentioned him a few times at the gym. He’s had suspicions about some dirty deals and organized crime.”

  “He sounds charming.”

  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to sit in the car?”

  “Hell, no.”

  He reached across the console and took her hand. “Then you’ll stay close to me at all times. Okay?”

  “Sean, being by your side will put a target on you.”

  “And I don’t give a damn about that. I’m not going to let a bunch of racist assholes dictate where I can go, what I can do, and whom I can be with. Every time we play their game, it gives them more power. But I understand if you’re afraid. If you don’t want to be by my side, then you’ll have to stay in the car. I’ll ask one of the other guys to wait with you.”

  “No! I’m not afraid for me. I’m afraid for you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “You should be afraid for you. You’re just as likely to be a target for being seen with me. As far as being safe, we’ve got Luke Sevick, Keith Hatcher, and myself, all former SEALs. Ian Boyd, former Delta Force and CIA, Alec Ravissant, former Army Ranger, then there’s Lee and Curt, who both have studied karate since they were kids. They might not know weapons and battle, but I’d never count them out in a fight. And I know because I’ve sparred with—and lost to—both of them. And then there’s Matt, who can also hold his own.”

  Hell, Matt had more training than all the men in their group. Sean had collected stories about the Hammer ever since he’d first learned of Ivy’s abduction by the man, and didn’t doubt Matthew Clark could take Sean without breaking a sweat. And Sean didn’t admit that about anyone.