Honor Avenged Page 4

  Shooting. They were shooting. At her.

  Oh shit.

  She couldn’t escape those men in her bare feet. Her British kidnapper definitely looked like the lesser of two evils at the moment.

  She tapped his side to get his attention. “There’s a house on a private, gated lot up ahead. It’s white with a steeply pitched roof and a conservatory hanging off the side of the cliff.”

  “I see it.” He didn’t sound the least bit out of breath. How was that possible? She wasn’t even doing the running and was panting like she’d completed a marathon.

  She gulped down air and firmly told herself now was not the time to hyperventilate. “The, uh, owners moved to Italy. It’s empty. There’s an eight-foot wall around the property, but—”

  She didn’t have to finish the thought. He changed course, making a beeline for the white stucco wall. He set her back on her feet when they reached it. Her head swam with the rush of blood leaving it, and her stomach felt bruised from bouncing against his shoulder.

  He steadied her with one hand on her arm. “Steady, now. Stay with me, Mrs. Giancarelli. I won’t let them hurt you, okay?”

  She sucked in a trembling breath and managed a nod. “Do you work with Marcus?”

  He shook his head and gazed up toward the top of the wall. “Know of him and HORNET. Never met any of them.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Wanted to talk to your husband. When I discovered he was dead, I came to find you. Thought I’d be able to keep you safe. I was wrong. They found me and now, you.”

  “Who?”

  “The Wolf.”

  “The what?”

  “It’s…complicated. I’d hoped you could put me in touch with HORNET.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest to keep from shaking apart. “I’ve had no contact with any of them.” That wasn’t entirely true. Marcus had been her rock in those horrible months after they buried Danny—at least until he ghosted her. Now, as far as she was concerned, he was dead to her, too. “They killed my husband.”

  “No, ma’am. They didn’t.” He threw a searching glance over his shoulder, then dug something out of his pocket and pushed it into her hand. “And you’ll need their help. Don’t trust the FBI. Don’t trust anyone in uniform.”

  She stared down at the silver rectangular object. It looked like a fancy cigarette lighter—the kind you just had to flip open to get the flame—but she couldn’t see any hinges. If it opened, she didn’t know how. “What—?”

  He turned his back to her and crouched, patted his shoulders. “You first.”

  She hesitated only a moment, glancing in the direction of the house. She didn’t trust the British man but wanted to meet the men with the guns even less. She pocketed the silver thing and climbed up on his shoulders. He rose to his feet and she was just able to grab the top of the wall.

  At the suggestion of her therapist, she’d started attending yoga after Danny’s death as a way to cope with her grief, and she was glad for it now. She was stronger than she’d ever been in her life and easily lifted herself up to sit on top of the wall. Luckily, the manicured yard was higher on the other side, a four-foot drop instead of eight. At least they wouldn’t break anything jumping down. She shifted to look down at the British man…and only then realized he couldn’t climb the wall by himself unless he was a real-life Spider-man.

  She leaned down and stretched out a hand. No, she didn’t trust him, but he had answers she needed. The answers to questions that had been haunting her for nearly a year now. She wasn’t about to let him die until he told her what he knew.

  A bullet ricocheted off the wall. Again, she didn’t hear it, but she saw it hit, saw the stucco splinter about a foot below her hand. She looked up. The shooter ran across the cliff top toward them.

  She again reached down to the British man, but he waved her off with a red-painted hand. He was bleeding. Had a bullet struck him? “Come on. They’ll kill you!”

  He shook his head. “No, they won’t. At least not right away. Go, Mrs. Giancarelli. Get your kids someplace safe. Find HORNET and give them that drive. Tell them if they want answers, they need to find me before our mates over there do decide to kill me.”

  She couldn’t believe this was happening. She was a real estate agent. The most dangerous thing about her job was the unpredictable housing market. She didn’t flee from gunmen. “Who are you?”

  “Alexander Cabot.”

  “Did you know Danny?”

  He hesitated. Only an instant, but it was enough to confirm her suspicions before he spoke again. “I was his informant.” He drew a weapon she hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying and turned to face off with the men bearing down on him. “Now get the fuck out of here! I’ll hold them off.”

  Chapter Five

  Get your kids someplace safe.

  It hadn’t registered when he said it, but as Leah dropped down the opposite side of the wall from Alexander Cabot, it played like a refrain in her mind.

  Her babies. Were they in danger?

  As soon as her feet hit the grass, she ran with everything she had in her. It had been a long time since her track-star days, a long time since she’d even gone for a run for pleasure, but once a runner, always a runner. She fell into the rhythm of it, ignoring the heat of the pavement searing the bottoms of her bare feet. Her strides lengthened until, two miles down the hill, the dead-end road converged with the Pacific Coast Highway. There she stumbled to a stop and, gasping, glanced around to get her bearings. There was a fire station here somewhere. If she could get there, she could call for help.

  Don’t trust the FBI.

  But, no, that was ridiculous. Her husband had worked for the FBI for most of his adult life. They were family. Far more trustworthy than HORNET. Danny was dead because he’d wanted to leave the FBI and sign on with them. Oh, he never said so, but when he’d joined HORNET for what was supposed to be a training mission, she’d fully expected him to come back from Martinique and put in his notice with the FBI.

  Except the training mission went wrong and he never came back.

  So why would she ask for help from the same people who couldn’t even keep him safe?

  She would call Danny’s former partner, Rick O’Keane. He’d been nothing but kind in the last year, and he hadn’t ghosted her like Marcus had. He’d know what to do. He’d know how to keep her and the kids safe.

  In the end, she didn’t need to find the fire station. As she walked along the highway, a police car pulled up beside her.

  Don’t trust the FBI. Don’t trust anyone in uniform.

  She tensed until the two officers climbed out of the vehicle. Both were women and both appeared genuinely startled and worried by her appearance.

  “Ma’am,” the taller of the two women said soothingly. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her knees buckled and the shorter officer caught her before she fell. They helped her into the car and drove her the rest of the way to the fire station, where paramedics bandaged her abused feet.

  By the time the officers returned to talk to her, she’d found her voice again. She had no reason not to trust them, and yet she kept her story as vague as possible. Yes, she was attacked while waiting to show a house on Cliffside Drive to a potential buyer. No, she didn’t know who had attacked her. They shot at her and she ran along the cliff, escaping over a wall into a neighbor’s property. The police left to check the house and she begged a cell phone off a female firefighter, who looked as sturdy as a redwood. Next to the massive woman, Leah felt as fragile as a flower, wilted and fading.

  Who did she call?

  Marcus hadn’t answered her calls in months. She had no idea where he was. And she absolutely wasn’t going to call HORNET.

  She accessed the internet, searched for the FBI field offi
ce’s number, and dialed. At least she knew Rick’s extension by heart. It used to be Danny’s.

  He answered before the end of the first ring. “Rick O’Keane.”

  “Rick…” Her voice wavered.

  “Leah? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  How did she answer that? She didn’t even know where to start.

  Don’t trust the FBI.

  Her stomach flip-flopped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you at work.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can always call. You know that, right? I’m here for you.”

  “I know. I know. I just—I had a bad moment.” She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly for his benefit. “I’m okay now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. Thanks.”

  “Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t. She sounded like an emotional wreck even to her own ears. She wasn’t shot at every day, and it was taking every scrap of willpower she possessed not to have a complete breakdown right now.

  “How about I stop by later, okay?” Rick suggested. “I’ll bring pizza for the kids.”

  She winced. She didn’t want to see him. “Not tonight. There’s too much—” She couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse and broke off. “Some other time. Thanks, Rick.”

  She hung up before he could say more and stared at the phone, turned it over and over in her hands. On a whim, she tried Marcus’s number. It rang and rang and rang and—her heart kicked when the line picked up, but settled again at the familiar computerized voicemail message. She didn’t know why she was always disappointed. He never answered.

  There was only one other number she knew by heart—it hadn’t changed since she, Danny, and Marcus were teenagers.

  Marcus’s angel of a mother, Regina Deangelo, picked up after a handful of rings. She sounded like she’d been laughing her big Italian laugh, and the smile in her voice soothed Leah’s frazzled nerves.

  “Regina,” she said, choking on a sob.

  Regina went on instant alert. “Leah? What is it, honey?”

  “Please go get the kids from school.”

  “Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

  “They are.” She hoped. “Please, go get them for me. Something—happened and—I need to know they’re safe. Please.” She choked on the last word and the floodgates opened.

  The female firefighter took the phone from her before it slipped out of her hands. Leah heard her talking to Regina but couldn’t track the conversation. Everything shook and she felt cold down to her very soul.

  Today had started with so much promise. And now…

  This was all so very wrong. This wasn’t her world and certainly wasn’t a world she wanted her children to know. Goddamn Danny. He had brought this…this…insanity into their lives thanks to his flirtation with HORNET, and then he’d died, leaving her to deal with the fallout.

  Sometimes she really hated him.

  And hated herself for feeling that way. What kind of evil woman was she to have so much anger toward her dead husband?

  She pushed that thought away as she always did. She had too much else to deal with to spend time wading through the quagmire of emotions associated with Danny Giancarelli. She had children to care for and she had to make a living. She had to survive. Nothing else mattered.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed when the police returned with backup. Apparently, there was a dead body on the property. They showed her a photo, asked if she recognized him.

  She held her breath, strangely afraid it would be the British man.

  It wasn’t.

  She exhaled softly. “I think he was one of the men who attacked me. I can’t be sure. I didn’t really see their faces. Just their guns.”

  “How did he end up dead?” one of the women officers asked. She wasn’t ungentle about it, but Leah heard the suspicion in her voice.

  “I don’t know.” Which was true. She didn’t know for sure how he died. She’d only gotten a glimpse of him as she was running for her life.

  “Were you armed?”

  “No. I’ve never even touched a gun in my life.”

  The two women stared at her for a long ten seconds. They knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Just like she always knew when her twins were lying. The officers could see right through her, and she resisted the urge to squirm. Squirming always gave the twins away.

  They asked more questions. She answered to the best of her ability—except she still didn’t tell them about Alexander Cabot or the drive he had given her. She should. She knew she should. The drive all but burned in her pocket, branding her leg. She should reach in and fish it out and tell them about the British man who sacrificed himself to save her.

  Don’t trust the FBI. Don’t trust anyone in uniform.

  Dammit.

  She kept her mouth shut.

  After what felt like an eternity, one of the officers drove her to Regina’s town house. Regina was already there, opening the door as the patrol car pulled up. She must have been keeping watch out the big bay window in her front room. She swept down the front steps and gathered Leah up in a huge hug.

  Regina Deangelo didn’t look like she was approaching sixty. She dyed her hair a deep auburn and her olive skin was the smooth, wrinkle-free complexion of a much younger woman. Except for the skin around her dark eyes, which wrinkled every time she laughed or smiled.

  Marcus had her smile, her eyes, and those same laugh lines. At least he had until he stopped laughing last summer.

  A little eccentric, Regina possessed an endless collection of glasses and ponchos. Today, she wore white plastic frames in a funky cat eye and a gauzy purple poncho over a white tank top. She smelled of lavender as she wrapped Leah up with a strength that belied her small stature.

  It took every ounce of self-control Leah had not to fall apart. Her own mother had never held her like this, and Danny’s parents, while wonderful, had died about ten years ago, his mother of cancer and his father of a massive heart attack less than a year later. Regina was really the only family Leah had left.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Oh, amore. No need to thank me. I love you and I love those babies of yours. They’re the closest to grandchildren I’m going to get, since my useless son doesn’t see fit to give me any.”

  Despite everything, a smile curved Leah’s lips. Regina called Marcus useless, but the affection in that one word made it sound like an endearment. She could only hope she’d have the same loving relationship with her sons when they reached adulthood. “Have you spoken to him recently?”

  As soon as she voiced the question, she wanted to reach out and snatch it back. She didn’t care about Marcus. He’d abandoned her when she most needed a friend. No, not just a friend. She had plenty of those. She had needed him, someone who intimately knew her loss, understood her pain. And he’d left her without so much as a see you later. He’d cared more about getting revenge than her.

  Regina scoffed and led her into the house. “Not recently. The little shit has been dodging my calls.”

  “Is…he okay?” Dammit. Another question she had no business asking. It didn’t matter.

  A frown creased the smooth skin between Regina’s manicured brows. “He says so, but…” She let the thought trail off and then waved the conversational thread away with one swipe of her hand. She pulled Leah down to sit next to her on the sofa in the front room. “Tell me what happened today.”

  Leah shook her head. She wasn’t ready to talk just yet. She gazed at the ceiling as a loud thunk sounded from upstairs. “Can I check on the kids first? I need to see them.”

  “Of course. And while you’re up there, shower and change out of those clothes. I’ll put some tea on.”

  That was Regina for you. In her mind, tea cured everyth
ing that ailed you.

  Leah smiled to herself as she made her way upstairs, beginning to relax for the first time since the bullets started flying. This was exactly what she’d needed—the comfort and safety of home.

  She paused briefly on the landing where Regina had hung all of Marcus’s school photos. He’d been an adorable child, especially when he was her daughter’s age. At nine, his smile was gap-toothed, and wild springs of dark curls stuck up every which way from his head. Of all the photos his mom plastered her home with, he hated that particular picture the most.

  She’d never known him like that—young and adorably awkward. She met Marcus and Danny her freshman year of high school, after they had already started growing into their bodies. She and Danny had both been on the track team. For her, it had been love at first sight. For him…well, he’d been his usual cautious self. They’d flirted for nearly a year before he finally asked her out. Back then, you couldn’t love Danny without also loving Marcus. They were more like brothers than friends, a package deal. They’d been the boys every girl in school had swooned over, and they’d been hers.

  Her gazed skimmed over a photo of the three of them together on the beach after her and Danny’s wedding. She’d been sandwiched between them—Danny on one side and Marcus on the other. She reached out and lovingly caressed the frame. Couldn’t help herself. She’d been so secure in that photo, comfortable between the two people she loved most in the world.

  Now she didn’t have either of them and wondered if she’d ever find that level of comfort again.

  Tears threatened, and she blinked them away. She hadn’t cried this much in months, and she was afraid to start again. She’d almost broken under the weight of the grief last time. Marcus had taken some of that weight for her, allowing her to breathe, but he wasn’t around this time.

  She had to do this on her own.

  She continued up the stairs and peeked into the room the boys shared whenever they visited Nana Gina. They were happily entrenched in a game on the PlayStation and didn’t notice her in the doorway. She watched them for a moment, marveling at the two little humans that were such a perfect mix between her and Danny, right down to their personalities. Her lighter coloring, his face shape and expressions.