Running Strong Page 16

  Raphael turned his attention to Dylan, who crab-crawled toward them. “Tell me you found him.”

  “Not yet. As soon as the shots were fired, we sent a hail of bullets toward the areas they came from. Sinclair, Gates, and Fox took off after them.”

  “They’re long gone,” Noah predicted. “Just in case, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Dylan opened the back door of a vehicle and held out a hand to Giselle. She took it and was practically airborne as he shoved her inside. She glanced over her shoulder. Raphael was getting into the other vehicle, and despite having a huge hole in the back of his leather jacket, he moved quickly as if he felt no pain.

  Noah got into the vehicle and sat beside her. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll sort things out once we’re away.”

  “Where are Samara and your children?”

  His smile grim, he said, “Where nobody in their right minds would even consider going.”

  As they sped down the drive and onto the highway, Giselle’s heart rate finally settled into a less-panicked mode as she allowed her mind to go over the last half hour. Noah’s family had been recovered and were safe. A blessing she had feared wouldn’t happen.

  And there had been snipers. Raphael believed they had been aiming at her. How he knew that, she wasn’t sure. If he was right, though, it reinforced her belief that Daniel Fletcher was behind all of this.

  “Reddington said something to me…before things got crazy. He told me I made quite a mess of things.”

  Noah nodded slowly. “Proves he definitely knows something about Fletcher.”

  “He’s behind it all, isn’t he? Daniel, I mean.”

  “Yeah. He is.”

  She already knew this, but on hearing Noah’s agreement, an odd combination of joy and sadness filled her. It had been so long since anyone believed anything she said, having his affirmation that she had been right went a long way in restoring her confidence.

  She couldn’t help but be sad, too. Because of her, Noah’s family had been taken. They had been used like chess pieces in a deadly game with her father-in-law. The man was merciless when it came to something he wanted. And he wanted her dead.

  “I’m sorry, Noah. This was all my fault.”

  “The hell it was, Giselle. Don’t play into Fletcher’s hands by believing any of this is your fault. The bastard is evil, and he needs to be stopped.”

  “But how can he be stopped? He’s got so many people on his side.”

  He offered her a grim smile. “Everyone has a weakness. We’ll find his. Don’t worry.”

  It hit her then how phenomenal this man really was. As much as he likely wanted to be with his family, he was here with her, reassuring her. The dedication of purpose in that one act showed her the nature of Noah McCall.

  Raphael wasn’t related by blood to Noah, but she had witnessed the same dedication in him. What made men like Daniel Fletcher and Stanford Reddington evil, and what made other men like Raphael and Noah good and honorable? That was a question with many answers. She was just glad there were men like Raphael and Noah in the world.

  “I’m going to send you back to the safe house. Raphael will join you soon. Then we need to talk. We’re going to need every ounce of information you can give us on both Fletcher and this Rawlings character. You up for it?”

  To save Giovanni? She would give up everything, including her life, to make that happen.

  ***

  It was long past midnight when she finally arrived back at the safe house. They had stopped in Alexandria and dropped off Noah. She knew he was aching to see Samara and his children. Before exiting the vehicle, he squeezed her hand gently. “Raphael told me that he’s Giovanni’s father. He’s hurt and angry right now, but don’t give up on him.”

  Before she could find an answer that wouldn’t have her sobbing her heart out in his arms, he continued, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She spent the rest of the trip to the safe house with her mind in exhausted limbo. She ached everywhere, body and soul, and could think of nothing she’d rather do than take a hot shower and then fall into bed. The oblivion of sleep would be so comforting. That couldn’t happen. Not only would she suffer from nightmares, but she wanted to know the next step. How were they going to get Giovanni away from the Fletchers, and how in the world would either of them ever be safe?

  She wasn’t surprised that Raphael was already there, standing on the porch waiting for them. She thanked her driver, a tall, middle-aged man who was introduced to her only as Dexter, and got out of the car. Noting how grim the man on the porch looked, she asked, “Don’t you think you need to go to the hospital and get checked out?”

  “Thorne was right. It’s just a bruise. I’m okay. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m not the one who was shot by a mirror.”

  His dark eyes glimmered with amusement. “Technically, the mirror wasn’t at fault. It was the guy who shot the mirror I’m pissed at.”

  “You saved my life.”

  “It never should have happened. Let’s get inside, and then we’ll talk.”

  The instant the door closed behind them, she faced him. “What happened proves my theory. That Daniel Fletcher was working with Reddington. Noah agrees.”

  Instead of answering, he headed to the fireplace. “I’m going to build a fire. Why don’t you make us something warm to drink? There’s cocoa and sugar in the pantry.”

  “I don’t want hot chocolate.”

  “Yeah, well, I do.”

  When she didn’t move, he threw a look over his shoulder that she recognized all too well. If stubborn had a face, it would look like Raphael Sanchez.

  “Fine.”

  Turning back to the fireplace, Raphael grunted his thanks.

  Blowing out an exasperated sigh, Giselle went to the kitchen and forced herself to think about something other than that someone tried to kill her today and that Raphael almost died because of her. Concentrating on making the hot chocolate the way her mother used to make it, she felt her nerves calm, her emotions level out.

  By the time she carried two mugs of steaming hot cocoa into the living room, a fire was roaring in the fireplace and Raphael was sitting in a chair waiting for her.

  Handing him a mug, she took her own drink and settled on the sofa. She took a sip, sighed at the delightful memories the thick, sweet chocolate evoked, and felt herself relax even more.

  She sent him a wry smile. “You did that on purpose.”

  “What?”

  “Made me focus on something else.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Besides, I wanted hot chocolate.”

  “Thank you for always taking care of me, Raphael.”

  “It’s my job.”

  She wanted to ask him what he meant by that. Was it his job because he was an LCR operative? Or did she still mean something to him? She didn’t ask his meaning, because she greatly feared the answer. Raphael had no reason to be anything but furious with her. What if Noah was wrong and he never forgave her?

  Fighting off the chill of that thought, she took another sip of her cocoa and then asked, “Where do we go from here?”

  Swallowing the last of his chocolate, Raphael set the mug aside and stood. He still didn’t know if he could ever forgive Giselle for keeping him from his son, but seeing her look so damn miserable didn’t sit right with him. Yeah, she’d made mistakes, but she sure as hell didn’t deserve what had been done to her.

  Easing onto the sofa beside her, he ignored the ache in his back as he drew her into his arms. “We’re going to get our son back.”

  Whether it was his words or his actions, he didn’t know, but seconds later she turned to him, buried her face against his chest, and burst into tears.

  Raphael pulled her closer and let her cry. He had a feeling she hadn’t allowed herself to let go like this in a long time. And he couldn’t deny the pleasure he felt at having her in his arms. There were obstacles t
o get over, and he couldn’t say things would ever be right between them again, but for now this was enough.

  When her sobs finally turned to hiccupping sighs, he stretched out his hand, snagged a couple of tissues from the box beside him, and handed them to her. “Feel better?”

  She took the tissues, wiped her face, blew her nose, and nodded. “Yes. Thanks. I needed that.”

  “Everyone deserves a good cry every now and then. Does a body good.”

  She peeked up at him, her swollen eyes and red nose doing nothing to dim her beauty. “Do you ever cry?”

  “Nah. Cracking a couple of heads together or kicking an ass or two usually does it for me.”

  She giggled softly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You sound so very American.”

  “I am an American. Got my citizenship a few years back. Getting into the slang was more the army’s doing than anything else.”

  “You went into the army? I thought you were going to be an operative as soon as you graduated college.”

  No point going down that avenue of discussion. It would only bring back the bitterness he’d felt back then.

  “Changed my mind. Instead of college, I did a four-year stint in the army. As soon as I got out, I started with LCR.”

  “You’ve done a lot in seven years.”

  That was because he’d been motivated. Focusing on what he needed to do kept him from thinking about what he had lost. Heartbreak had been a powerful impetus. Those first few weeks after she left had definitely not been his best. Noah had finally done a little McCall-style ass-kicking, which had gone a long way in moving Raphael forward.

  “I’ve had some good experiences. Learned a lot.”

  “I’m glad.” She snuggled closer to him, and in seconds he realized her shallow, even breaths were an indication that she’d fallen asleep.

  He needed to get up, and they needed to talk about their plans. He needed to get more information from her on the Fletchers. That would have to wait. When was the last time she’d gotten a decent night’s sleep? How often did she wake screaming from the nightmare of having her son taken from her? Of being incarcerated in an insane asylum?

  He might not be able to give her his forgiveness, but he could damn well offer her this. Settling more comfortably against the back of the sofa, Raphael closed his eyes and allowed himself to doze.

  Morning would come soon enough with a new set of problems. For now, he would savor that the woman he’d been obsessed with for close to ten years was in his arms. He’d deal with the rest tomorrow.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Rockwell, New Jersey

  Cato Cavendar was about as pissed off as his kind could get. He had no conscience and very little temper. In his line of work, he could afford neither. You let your emotions take control, you got dead a whole lot quicker than necessary. He was a problem fixer and was damn good at his job.

  What should’ve been an easy assignment had been screwed up from the get-go. Damn idiots thought they could handle things on their own, and now it was as fubared up the ying-yang as it could get.

  He had been handling problems for the Fletchers for years. This was the first time he could remember that he’d just as soon shoot them instead of handling the situation. If Daniel Fletcher and Hugh Rawlings had left it alone, let him do his thing, the girl would already be dead. Noah McCall and his organization wouldn’t have even been involved.

  All it would have taken was a little nudge, and the girl could have gone over the deep end. They’d started off the right way—giving her drugs to make her sick had been working just fine. Her showing up at that party looking like death warmed over and spouting all sorts of nonsense had been unexpected, but it could’ve worked in their favor. Widow overcome with grief ends her own life—simple, uncomplicated.

  In his vast experience, keeping death simple was always the best way to go. Try to make it something more, something bigger, always muddled things up.

  Instead of using the party incident as a springboard, they’d shipped her off to some kind of asylum. Arranging for people to disappear was his job, not theirs. If they’d stayed out of it, all their worries would have been over by now. Instead, he was going around trying to clean up their mess. And, oh hell, what a mess.

  Not only had they screwed the pooch with the girl, they’d gotten in bed with Stanford Reddington. When it came to sleaze, Reddington was king. Wasn’t much the man hadn’t done. Cato respected a man like that, but that didn’t mean he wanted to do business with him. Especially since it involved going up against an organization like Last Chance Rescue.

  Taking McCall’s family? The instant he’d heard about it, he gotten a gut-deep bad feeling. Fletcher had seen it as brilliant, and Hugh Rawlings had gotten on board. Talking the men out of the idea had been impossible. His only choice had been to work with what he was given and try to make the best of it.

  Reddington’s job was to get his family to the meet. His only job. None of it had worked out. McCall had his family back. The girl was still alive. And now McCall knew that someone other than Reddington was involved.

  Damn, what a shitfest.

  But it was up to him to clean up said mess, and he got paid a more than decent salary to get it done. He was off to a good start, having already arranged for one death this morning. That should be taken care of within the next forty-eight hours. Next thing to do was get the girl dead as soon as possible. And since they now wanted Sanchez dead, too, he’d make it a twofer.

  After that, he’d have to deal with the fallout from McCall and his people. They’d eventually go away, or he’d figure out something.

  After that was all settled, he’d have a chat with both Fletcher and Rawlings about staying out of things that didn’t concern them. Killing was his job, not theirs. And he was damn good at it.

  ***

  LCR Safe House

  Virginia

  Giselle woke, feeling more refreshed than she had in months. She owed Raphael for that, too. She had fallen asleep in his arms. She wasn’t sure for how long, but she vaguely remembered him carrying her to bed, where she had continued to sleep deeply.

  Now she was ready to face the day, ready to do whatever she had to do to get her son back. She took a quick shower, eager to see Raphael and discuss their options. Her optimism stayed high until she walked into the kitchen and found a note from him.

  I’ll be back in a few hours to get you.

  Her optimism slowly faded as she acknowledged what else she had to face. The frustrating thing about admitting your mistakes was the knowledge that admitting them didn’t make them go away. They were still there, still hers.

  Despite their closeness last night, Raphael would never forgive her. Even as she had made the decision to ask LCR for help, knowing it would bring her face-to-face with her past, she had known that. Accepting that he would never forgive her was a lot easier than the knowledge of how much she had hurt him. The pain on his face when she had told him Giovanni was his son would remain with her forever.

  Though he now knew everything, she hadn’t told him how very hard she’d tried to be allowed to contact him about her pregnancy. She had pleaded and then railed at the US marshal and their other handlers to no avail. They would not budge. Finally, they had painted such a grim and horrific picture of what Reddington would do if he had the chance to grab her child or her family, she had relented. She had always thought they had been a little over the top in their warnings, but now she knew they had been right. Reddington had set up his own daughter to be killed. There was nothing the man would not do to get what he wanted.

  Would it help if she told him everything? Probably not, especially when, given another chance, she would make the same decisions. Protecting her loved ones would always come first. She pushed aside the snide inner voice that reminded her what a piss-poor job she had done in that area.

  Her eyes roamed around the kitchen. Even though she had no appetite, she needed to eat something. Sh
e was going to have to be strong to face what came next. Getting Gio back was the most important thing right now. He needed his mother healthy so she could fight for him.

  The sound of the front door opening had her heartbeat in overdrive. She turned. Raphael came toward her, his long legs eating the distance with the determined stride she recognized all too well. His face looked as if it had been carved from stone. The softness she had glimpsed in him last night was no more.

  He stopped at the doorway. “Here’s the deal. I’m going to get Giovanni back, not only because he’s my son, but because it’s what I do.”

  “Thank you, Raphael. I—”

  “Save your thanks. It’s not needed. As for your explanations and excuses, save them, too. Bottom line, I can’t forgive you for what you did, but that won’t stop me from doing my job.”

  In just a few sentences, he had dashed any hope she’d had for them. His attitude wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t keep the hurt away.

  “I understand.”

  His eyes swept around the room. “Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll stop on the way to headquarters. Noah wants a meeting.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes…whatever you need.”

  “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  Raphael didn’t bother to watch her leave the room. The fact that she looked as miserable as he felt gave him little comfort. He’d woken this morning and had it slam into his face once more. He had a child. A six-year-old little boy he had never met. The thought of that was still staggering. Everything he had believed about his life, about his purpose, had been upended.

  Dwelling on Giselle’s deceit was not helpful. Neither was the knowledge that his son didn’t even know who his father was. What kind of relationship could they form? He had to push all of that aside. His priority was getting his son away from the people who held him. And keep Giselle alive in the process.