receive more information on Aaron,” Agent Simms said, although that didn’t ring true to her ears. From what she knew of the military, they didn’t hand over their AWOL soldiers, if that’s what Aaron truly was, so easily.
“You’re coming to me because Aaron has no other family.”
“We’d like to speak to Aaron.”
“I don’t know how to get in touch with him. I didn’t even know he was alive,” she lied, the old protective instincts coming out despite her anger toward Aaron. Another lesson learned early—protect your own. You never knew when you would need the favor returned.
“You’ll want to cooperate with us.” Agent Simms’s tone had lost the kind edge it had earlier.
“I’ve told you everything I know. If I hear from him, I’ll get in touch with you. Please leave me your card and go.”
Agent Ferone smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not the way this works, Kaylee. You’re going to have to come with us.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you—not right now. I’ll be happy to meet you at the FBI offices in the morning,” she said.
“That’s not going to work for us.” Agent Simms kept his tone reasonable. “This is time-sensitive information. I’m sure you don’t want any more harm to come to your ex-husband than necessary.”
Something was very, very wrong. Nick squeezed her hand, as if he agreed.
She pretended to look at the floor for a second so she could catch Nick’s face from her periphery. He was motioning for her to invite them inside.
“Okay, fine. I just need to grab my bag.” She opened the door wider and walked away, feeling the two men following her inside the apartment.
She turned around again only when she heard the door slam shut, feeling the sick plunge of her stomach as she saw the gun Agent Ferone had pulled on her. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to need whatever Aaron Smith left you in that safe-deposit box,” he said.
How did they know about the safety deposit box? She fought panic, asked, “And then what?”
He ignored her question, which told her more than if he’d threatened her outright. “Hand over your bag.”
She held it out to him, feet rooted to the floor, right before Nick took him down from behind with a pinch of his fingers on the man’s neck.
“Leave, Kaylee—go now,” he instructed even as Agent Simms lunged for him.
But she didn’t leave—instead, she watched Nick wrestle the taller man, waiting to see if there was anything she could do to help. Every instinct she had fought running away from any situation—this was no different.
The men appeared well matched for a fight, but without any apparent effort on Nick’s part, he had the dark-haired agent headlocked and unconscious within seconds.
When the knife clattered from the agent’s limp hand, it was then she noticed it was covered in blood. As was Nick’s arm.
He appeared unconcerned, was rifling first through one agent’s pockets and then the other’s while telling her to collect her things fast.
She did so: computer, passport, Aaron’s envelope and some clothing were stuffed into an oversize bag, which Nick took from her.
“Where did the men go?” she asked. Her apartment door was slightly ajar.
“Janitor’s closet. We don’t have much time before they wake up. Lock the door behind you,” he told her as he slipped her bag onto his shoulder and grabbed her hand.
In what seemed like an eternity, they were on the street and in Nick’s car, careening away from the curb and her apartment and the life she’d known since Aaron died.
Nick was yanking his jacket off as he drove and she saw the wound he’d received during the fight. She looked around, found a towel in the backseat and pressed it to his arm without thinking.
“Stop, Kaylee. Just let me drive.” He pushed her hand away.
“You’re bleeding everywhere,” she pointed out, her calm demeanor returning before she glanced behind them.
“They
“You’re coming to me because Aaron has no other family.”
“We’d like to speak to Aaron.”
“I don’t know how to get in touch with him. I didn’t even know he was alive,” she lied, the old protective instincts coming out despite her anger toward Aaron. Another lesson learned early—protect your own. You never knew when you would need the favor returned.
“You’ll want to cooperate with us.” Agent Simms’s tone had lost the kind edge it had earlier.
“I’ve told you everything I know. If I hear from him, I’ll get in touch with you. Please leave me your card and go.”
Agent Ferone smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m afraid that’s not the way this works, Kaylee. You’re going to have to come with us.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you—not right now. I’ll be happy to meet you at the FBI offices in the morning,” she said.
“That’s not going to work for us.” Agent Simms kept his tone reasonable. “This is time-sensitive information. I’m sure you don’t want any more harm to come to your ex-husband than necessary.”
Something was very, very wrong. Nick squeezed her hand, as if he agreed.
She pretended to look at the floor for a second so she could catch Nick’s face from her periphery. He was motioning for her to invite them inside.
“Okay, fine. I just need to grab my bag.” She opened the door wider and walked away, feeling the two men following her inside the apartment.
She turned around again only when she heard the door slam shut, feeling the sick plunge of her stomach as she saw the gun Agent Ferone had pulled on her. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to need whatever Aaron Smith left you in that safe-deposit box,” he said.
How did they know about the safety deposit box? She fought panic, asked, “And then what?”
He ignored her question, which told her more than if he’d threatened her outright. “Hand over your bag.”
She held it out to him, feet rooted to the floor, right before Nick took him down from behind with a pinch of his fingers on the man’s neck.
“Leave, Kaylee—go now,” he instructed even as Agent Simms lunged for him.
But she didn’t leave—instead, she watched Nick wrestle the taller man, waiting to see if there was anything she could do to help. Every instinct she had fought running away from any situation—this was no different.
The men appeared well matched for a fight, but without any apparent effort on Nick’s part, he had the dark-haired agent headlocked and unconscious within seconds.
When the knife clattered from the agent’s limp hand, it was then she noticed it was covered in blood. As was Nick’s arm.
He appeared unconcerned, was rifling first through one agent’s pockets and then the other’s while telling her to collect her things fast.
She did so: computer, passport, Aaron’s envelope and some clothing were stuffed into an oversize bag, which Nick took from her.
“Where did the men go?” she asked. Her apartment door was slightly ajar.
“Janitor’s closet. We don’t have much time before they wake up. Lock the door behind you,” he told her as he slipped her bag onto his shoulder and grabbed her hand.
In what seemed like an eternity, they were on the street and in Nick’s car, careening away from the curb and her apartment and the life she’d known since Aaron died.
Nick was yanking his jacket off as he drove and she saw the wound he’d received during the fight. She looked around, found a towel in the backseat and pressed it to his arm without thinking.
“Stop, Kaylee. Just let me drive.” He pushed her hand away.
“You’re bleeding everywhere,” she pointed out, her calm demeanor returning before she glanced behind them.
“They
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