Stolen Secrets. Sherri Shackelford
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As the weeks passed, Jordan had looked forward to her witty observations and keen intelligence. Knowing that nothing would ever come of it, he’d even allowed himself to develop a harmless crush on her.
“Nice to see you, too,” she said, her smile warm. “This must be quite a change of pace after being overseas.”
“Not as much as you’d think.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Brandt. I should have spoken to you earlier, but I couldn’t…”
Lucy held up one hand, her eyes welling with tears. “Don’t apologize. They told me you’d been injured.” She studied his face, as though searching for any lingering signs of the explosion that had permanently altered his hairline. “They didn’t tell me how badly, though.”
“Not bad.” He was heartily sick of the traumatic brain injury protocol, and he’d had enough neurological scans to map out his brain ten times over. “Fully recovered.”
“Brandt promised me the job was rarely dangerous.”
“Normally, it’s not. But we work in hostile places, and there’s always a risk.”
“I miss him.” Her throat worked. “You knew him better than I ever did. You knew him longer. With his parents gone, they gave me his flag. It should have gone to—” Her voice broke.
“I miss him, too.” Jordan took her elbow and guided her toward the table. “You were his fiancée. He’d have wanted you to have it.”
She sank onto her chair. “Thank you.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said. “I appreciate you meeting me, considering…”
He’d felt a connection to her even though they’d never met in person before today. Maybe it was because he’d had a childhood friend with the same name. Though she was nothing like the kid he’d known in school, hearing the name Lucy Sutton automatically came with a sense of belonging.
“Every day is different, you know?” Lucy’s smile was overly bright and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. “You were a good friend to him, and that means a lot.”
A band of emotion squeezed his chest. She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew the truth of her fiancé’s death. They’d been on the verge of wrapping up their assignment when something—or someone—had blown their cover. A suicide bomber had targeted the hotel where they were conducting their surveillance.
Jordan had survived the blast. Brandt had not. That was all Lucy knew about that day. She didn’t know the suicide bomber had discovered the intelligence equipment Jordan and Brandt had planted earlier. That part was classified.
Her gaze skittered away, and she motioned to a chair. “Sit. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m good.”
Lucy reached for her coffee. Despite the unusually mild spring weather, she clutched the warm cup. He glanced at her hand, and his breath hitched. His carefully prepared speech shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
She followed his gaze. “I should probably stop wearing the engagement ring. It’s sentimental, I suppose, because of, well, you know…”
“You, uh…” He cleared his throat. “You should do whatever feels right to you.”
According to Brandt, his whirlwind courtship with Lucy had prevented him from proposing with a proper ring. Near the end of their assignment, Brandt had produced a box from a shockingly exclusive jeweler in Islamabad who catered to Saudi princes and Russian oligarchs.
The day of the bombing, Brandt had asked him to hold the ring. Jordan had thought it was lost in the blast until they’d returned it to him last month. Some sort of mix-up had occurred, and the ring had been sitting in storage for months. This morning he’d planned on presenting the ring to Lucy along with an apology for the delay, but she was already wearing an identical piece of jewelry.
Why?
Lucy glanced at the sparkling diamond. “We’d only been dating for six months when he learned he was being sent back into the field. He proposed to me the next day.”
“He was a force of nature,” Jordan said. Brandt was outgoing, irreverent and brash. Standing next to him meant standing in the shadows, like comparing a color photo to the negative. “Once he knew what he wanted, he went after it all the way. There was no one else like him.”
“He was relentless, that’s for sure.” She wriggled her fingers, and the diamond facets caught the sunlight streaming through the windows. “The ring was a compromise. Everything happened so fast. We agreed to a long engagement. I figured if our relationship survived his time in Pakistan, we’d have a chance.”
“I’m glad we could meet in person,” Jordan said, searching for a way to justify his presence because there was no obvious explanation for a duplicate ring. “I hope you weren’t too surprised when I contacted you.”
“I couldn’t have been more pleased.” Her tone was earnestly sincere. “Having heard so much about you from Brandt, I was looking forward to finally meeting you in person.”
“He’d read your emails out loud sometimes. Nothing personal, mind you. Just the silly stories. They kept us going.”
“Don’t look so guilty,” she admonished lightly. “Brandt told me. He couldn’t keep a secret even if he wanted to.”
The door swung open, and Lucy whipped around. The toddler he’d seen earlier waved at them with chubby fingers.
Lucy’s shoulders sagged and his attention sharpened. He wasn’t the only person at this meeting who was searching for credible threats.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked.
“Everything is fine.” With trembling fingers, she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I’m jumpy. Too much coffee, I guess.”
His immediate concerns took a back seat to more pressing matters. Lucy was probably good at many things.
Lying wasn’t one of them.
He carefully considered his next words. “The National Security Agency is a family,” Jordan prodded gently. “We look out for each other. We take care of each other. You’re a part of that family now.”
“It’s nothing.” Her gaze darted around the room. “It sounds absurd even to me.”
Fear was an emotion he encountered often in his line of work, and Lucy was terrified.
“I deal with the absurd for a living. Try me.”
“Brandt said you were easy to trust.”