image of Gil’s face, the void where his eyes should have been, battered into her memory. She’d never forget.
Lyssa clutched the duffel to her. She had to push Gil aside, cold and heartless as that was. She had to concentrate. She had to survive.
The train rumbled beneath her, the iron supports whizzing past, each second taking her farther from the body of the man who had sworn to protect her, further from the life she’d lived for almost a year.
She knew one thing; this wouldn’t be a repeat of the last time Archimedes had found her. This time she would dictate the rules.
She caught sight of an ad for the Atrium Mall from the train’s window. A lot of people. Open late.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she walked into the huge shopping center. Crowds milled around her. She let herself breathe again. Archimedes didn’t kill in public. Or he hadn’t yet. She found a corner table in the food court, near a wall, out of the way. She shoved her hand into her pocket and grabbed the unused, prepaid cell phone.
She dialed but couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She hated the response, hated the show of vulnerability. Somewhere inside she had to find the strength to do what two years ago she could never have imagined doing.
She didn’t bother with 911. They couldn’t help.
She dialed a number she’d memorized a year ago.
“Nichols,” the voice barked.
The one man she trusted not to betray her.
“He found me again.”
* * *
NOAH BRADFORD VAULTED onto the edge of the roof from the ladder propped against his father’s house. The brisk morning air would make it easy to stay alert. He scaled the pitched tile using techniques not so different from an escape he’d engineered in Kazakhstan. At least this time bullets weren’t flying past his head.
Donning an elaborate tool belt stuffed with everything from levels to screwdrivers to ratchets and hammers, his brother Chase followed Noah to the satellite system.
Noah knelt to inspect the latest winter storm’s hail damage. “Colorado weather is not kind to my toys,” he muttered. “No wonder Dad’s had so many outages.”
Ignoring the fact that he should have found time to repair this months ago, Noah grabbed a small set of tools from his back pocket and quickly adjusted the encryption device while Chase checked out the damaged tiles from the storm.
They’d almost finished before Chase spoke. “You were out of touch for over a month, bro,” he accused. “Dad was worried.”
Yet another way Noah had let down his dad. He sent Chase a sidelong glance. “I told you, I had business—”
“You gave the family a cock-and-bull story that even a child would see through. We’re not stupid, Noah. Dad developed pneumonia two weeks ago. We couldn’t get ahold of you. You didn’t answer your cell. No one from your companies could tell us anything. Not acceptable.”
A small screwdriver fell from Noah’s normally secure grip, rolled down the roof and tumbled over the side. He let out a sharp curse before snapping the cover over the panel. “I can’t talk about it.”
He eased to the edge and made his way down the ladder in seconds. Chase followed. “I’m just giving you fair warning. You won’t be able to avoid the truth this time. Dad’s staging an intervention.”
Noah stilled, the muscles at the base of his neck tying into a familiar knot. He looked over at his SUV. He could just leave. His family was better off not knowing about his side job as the Falcon. They knew about his public career. The encryption and software patents he’d developed as a teenager had turned into big business. They’d never understood why he’d left it and home at eighteen for the Marines.
They definitely had no idea that he now worked for an organization that took on tasks the government or military couldn’t risk.
Chase slapped his brother’s shoulder and the move yanked Noah from the dark memories.
“Come clean,” his brother said. “Just like you did when Dad caught you and Mitch sneaking out during high school. Some things aren’t worth avoiding.”
“And sometimes the truth doesn’t make it better,” Noah said. “This isn’t high school.”
Bracing himself, he entered his father’s home, past the handicapped ramp that his siblings, Mitch, Chase and Sierra, had installed. Noah had been on a job. By the time he’d returned, all he’d been able to do was write a check.
His mind already searching for a means of escape, he found his way into the living room. “Satellite is fixed. You’ve got TV and internet, all encrypted for your super-secret-police consulting.”
His father didn’t take the bait. Paul Bradford said nothing; he simply quirked an eyebrow while the football game played in the background. Noah squirmed under his dad’s focus. He might be in a wheelchair after a gunshot severed his spinal cord, but nothing was wrong with his instincts.
Noah’s forefinger scratched at his knuckle. “What?”
His brother Chase shrugged and passed him a longneck bottle with that I-told-you look.
Paul Bradford drummed his fingers on his chair. “I did a little digging—”
Noah’s hand paused on the way to his mouth, then he took a long gulp. Yeah, he’d been brilliant encouraging his father’s interest in computers. Noah knew exactly how he inherited his own tech ability. The idea of setting Dad up with a side business doing investigations had seemed like a perfect way to keep Paul Bradford engaged in life—and law enforcement. Noah downed half the bottle, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. What a fool. “Your point?”
“I hit a damn brick wall,” Paul growled.
At least something had gone right today.
“You want to tell me why I can’t find out anything about you, Noah? Short of the vanilla bio you published on the websites of your companies.” Paul rolled his chair across the wooden floor, coming a few inches from Noah. “I haven’t pried into your life before. Well, that stops now. Exactly what are you into, Noah? How worried should we be?”
His sister, Sierra, saved him from answering. For the moment. She exited the kitchen with a large tray of chips and guacamole, followed by Mitch and his very pregnant wife, Emily. Mitch held Emily’s two-year-old son Joshua in his arms while Emily waddled into the living room and settled down on a hard-back chair with a sigh. “I can’t get out of that sofa,” she said with a smile. “Last time, Mitch had to use a crane to hoist me.”
Thankful for something to do—anything to avoid answering questions—Noah doled out a plate for Emily. She looked at him in surprise. “Thank you?”
“It’s not like our resident man-of-mystery has learned manners,” Chase commented. “He’s just avoiding Dad’s questions.”
Noah winced and eyed the door. He should go. This conversation had already strayed too close to truths he couldn’t
