Chances Are(21)

In three strides he was at the couch where he placed her gently against the pillows. He turned and headed to the kitchen. Hot, sweet tea for the shock and then they were going to the hospital to get her hand x-rayed.

He glanced over his shoulder. She lay where he left her, the hollow, desolate look in her eyes worrying him more than the damage to her hand. He wanted to hold her and reassure her, but had a feeling doing that would be more for his benefit than hers. She had scared the hell out of him.

With quick efficiency, he poured water into a cup, dropped in a teabag and put it in the microwave. Not the proper British way to make a cup of tea but he was looking more for expediency than taste. The instant the bell dinged, he took the steaming cup, liberally added several spoonfuls of sugar and headed back to the couch where Angela lay, unmoving.

He set the cup on the coffee table and then pulled her to sit up. Propping her against his shoulder, he grabbed the cup and held it in front of her, allowing the steam to coat her face. “Take a sip.”

Her lips parted and Jake held the rim of the cup to her mouth and tilted it slightly. When he heard her swallow, the tension in his muscles loosened. At least she was responding to his verbal commands. Now to get the hot soothing liquid and sugar boost flowing in her veins and hopefully get her talking.

They sat silently for a minute or more. The only sounds came from Angela’s sipping and swallowing the hot beverage. He was glad to see color was returning to her face and the glassy look disappear from her eyes.

Noting the tea was almost gone, Jake lowered the cup. He was about to ask her if she wanted more when she expelled a gargantuan sigh. Her gaze locked on the cup he still held in his hand, she spoke softly, “For most of my adult life, I’ve wanted to be an LCR operative. I used to dream about rescuing people and how wonderful that must feel. The thrill of taking down bad guys, the satisfaction that came from saving victims… It’s been my dream for so long. And now…”

Jake frowned. “And now, what?”

She snorted softly. “And now it’s apparent that I’m not cut out for it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. LCR operatives get scared just like everyone else. It was your first time. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Sad beyond measure, Angela shook her head. She appreciated Jake’s words, especially since he hadn’t wanted her on this job in the first place, but she now knew the truth. The smallest of scares and she’d folded like a defective chair. And that was how she felt—defective. She hadn’t been able to function or think straight. If the skateboarder had been the killer, she would have shrieked like a banshee and probably gotten herself and even Jake killed.

The throbbing pain in her hand was nothing compared to the dull ache in her heart. It had taken only seconds for her dreams to be demolished.

“We need to get you to a hospital and have your hand checked out. Does it hurt?”

“A little…not much.”

“Think you can manage to get to the car on your own?”

“Yes, but where are you going?”

“With you but we can’t be seen together. We can’t blow our cover.”

Angela shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m off the op.”

The man beside her jerked as though he’d been burned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not an active field operative anymore. I’m going back to my job as a researcher, that is, if Noah isn’t too pissed at me.”

When Jake pulled completely away from her and stood, Angela felt cold and lifeless as if he’d taken all the warmth and vitality with him. For several silent seconds he stood, looking down at her. Ashamed of her cowardice, she didn’t raise her head.

“We’ll discuss this later. Your hand is swelling rapidly. Let’s go.”

She had disappointed him—it was in his voice. She didn’t blame him. There was no one more disappointed in her than she was in herself. Of all the scenarios she had envisioned about her first op, this hadn’t been on her radar. Who would have thought something as innocuous as a kid on a skateboard could destroy her dream?

Feeling like a tired, lifeless creature, Angela grabbed her purse and went out the door, Jake following closely behind her. They had broken their cover—her part in the op was officially over. And now all she felt was empty and sad, much like she had when she lost her family. Jake, the man she loved and admired, walked by her side but never had she felt more bereft and alone.





Chapter Twelve

Jake had felt helpless plenty of times in his life, but he usually had a clue how to fix things. Not this time.

The instant they’d gotten into the car, Angela had phoned McCall. The conversation had been short and one-sided. She had been calm but resolute as she told him she was no longer on the job.

The emotionless way she’d announced her decision must have stunned McCall. At the hospital, once the nurse had taken Angela into an exam room, Jake had called his boss. McCall’s “What the hell happened?” wasn’t a surprise. What struck him was the sadness he heard in the man’s voice.

Quickly and succinctly, Jake described the evening’s events. McCall had expelled a long, ragged breath. “Bring her back here when you can. She’ll want to talk to Samara.”

The LCR leader had ended the call with disturbing information. Another woman was missing. There was no seeming tie to the disappearances of the other women with the exception of a bouquet of red roses found in the woman’s home. Neither a stripper nor a waitress, the missing woman worked at a small investment firm. Her home was in a different area of the city from where the other victims had lived. Plus, her physical characteristics had nothing in common with the killer’s preferences. The only similarities were the roses and the fact that she had vanished without a trace. The police were tentatively treating her disappearance as related.

After talking with McCall, Jake debated his next move. Telling the others, Riley Ingram and Justin Kelly, that he and Angela were off the job felt too precipitous. He wanted to wait and talk to Angela again after she’d had a while to think about her decision. Just because she’d told McCall she was off the case didn’t mean things couldn’t be reversed. Why he was so concerned about changing her mind escaped him. Only a week ago, he would’ve been happy to hear she had decided against being an operative. Now, he wanted to convince her to stay the course.

Jake shoved his fingers through his hair. Hell, his thinking was as skewed as Angela’s.

The door behind him opened. He whirled around and watched as she wandered into the room like a lost waif. And he knew why he wanted to change her mind. Before this incident, there had been a bright, unquenchable light in her eyes. The brightness was gone, leaving them dull and sad.

She held up a bandaged hand. “It’s a slight sprain. No fractures. The doctor said it should be fine within a week or so.”

“That’s good news.”

She grimaced a half smile. “I guess we can leave.”

In silence they left the hospital, got in the car and headed back to the apartment. Jake searched for the right words—something he could tell her that would make her rethink the experience and realize her fear had been natural. The truth hit him between the eyes and with a sigh, he opened his mouth and did something rare. He began to talk about his past.

“I went into the Army gung-ho and clueless. Took to the training like a duck in water. Everything they asked of me, I was eager for the challenge and excelled in it. Ask me to shoot a target, I was dead-on. Drop me in the middle of wilderness with no equipment and I’d find my way home, no problem. Tell me to swim a mile in the ocean and then hike twenty miles just to capture a damn flag, I was all over it.”

As he talked, Angela sat quietly, unmoving. He knew he had her attention because her body was stiff, as if she were holding her breath. Encouraged, he continued, “Then came my orders. They were sending me to Afghanistan. I was going to fight, probably kill, and possibly be killed. It finally hit me that I was going to have to put all those skills I’d learned and excelled at to use. I was scared shitless.”

Jake thought back about that time. Today he could smile at that too eager kid who enjoyed playing Army until it came time to man-up and actually do what he’d been trained to do.

“What did you do?”

Pleased at the question, he continued his story. “The night after I got my orders, I lay in my bunk and thought about all the things that could happen. The harder I thought about it, the more I panicked. The next day, I was headed to talk to my sergeant, ready to admit that I wasn’t prepared. On the way, I passed by the chapel. I thought, ‘What the heck? I’ll go in and have a talk with the Big Guy before I give it all up.’

“The chaplain happened to be in his office as I passed by, and for whatever reason, maybe because I looked scared or probably because he’d seen the same thing in hundreds of other soldiers, he invited me inside. I sat down and let it spill. Every fear, every scenario my brain could come up with…”