Strangers When We Married

Seth clapped the tall, powerfully built man on the shoulder. “Thanks, East. I’ll be fine.” Without waiting for a reply, aware of East’s speculative gaze on him, Seth turned and went back the way he had come.

Once inside the privacy of his room, he sat on the edge of the bed, allowing his thoughts full rein. Dead agents…a wealth in dope…and Simon. His mind reeled with frustration, regret and anger.

He remained seated on the bed for a little over an hour, hoping to allow enough time to pass to ensure that East and his wife were sound asleep.

Thankfully, he hadn’t unpacked his things the day before when he’d arrived. The small black bag by the door held everything he needed to live, including two sets of false identification…identification he couldn’t use because he didn’t want anyone, especially not the superiors who had provided the false credentials, to know where he was going or what he was doing.

He zipped the bag and with the stealth of a wildcat, opened the door and crept down the hallway in the opposite direction he’d gone earlier.

Not wanting to use the front door in the lobby area, he headed for a little-used service door in the kitchen. He pulled the door open and hesitated in the threshold, torn between duty and desire, following rules or breaking them.

He knew if he walked through the door and into the night, he’d be AWOL. He wasn’t sure what repercussions to expect, knew that he’d be considered a renegade agent, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

He had to get out of here. Another minute of this peace and tranquillity would kill him. Seth was accustomed to action and he had a definite plan in mind.

Without further hesitation, he stalked out of the door and into the night. The darkness surrounded him, and his dark jeans and shirt camouflaged him as he walked further and further away from the resort.

He needed some answers. Sooner or later Simon would sell the 700 pounds of heroin for cash and more weapons, ammunition he could use to further his destruction of Jonah and SPEAR.

Seth knew only one person who had the sharp intelligence, the innate shrewdness and skilled computer expertise to help him find Simon and the missing drugs.

His ex-wife.

Meghan.

Of course, before he could get her to agree to help him, he’d have to get her to agree to at least see him, talk to him. And that might be far more difficult than finding a cunning, traitorous criminal named Simon.

Meghan Greene believed in the comfort of rituals. She always had a glass of wine before dinner, no matter how long the meal might be postponed.

Despite exhaustion and late hours, she always rubbed hand lotion on her legs and elbows before getting into bed. And every evening before leaving work for the day, she covered her computer monitor with a dustcover and carefully wiped down the glass-topped desk with window cleaner.

This day was no different: She sprayed and swiped, then stepped back to survey the results.

“When you get done over there, how about giving my desk a little spray and elbow grease,” Mark Lathrop said as he carried a cup of coffee past her.

“Fat chance,” Meghan retorted and eyed his desk with disdain. Discarded take-out food containers littered his space, along with dirty coffee mugs, a plate of three-day-old chocolate еclairs and enough dust to fill a vacuum bag. “It would take more than a little elbow grease on that. You might consider calling HAZMAT to take care of the job.”

“Ha ha,” Mark replied dryly. He flopped into his chair and eyed her curiously. “Got big plans for the weekend?”

“Sure, me and my best guy are going to spend some quality time together.” Meghan swiped the glass a final time then opened the nearby supply closet and put the cleaner away.

“How is Kirk?” Mark asked as he propped his feet up on his desk, narrowly missing the stale еclairs.

Meghan smiled. “He’s wonderful.” She stole a glimpse at her watch. “And if I don’t get out of here, he’ll be squalling because dinner is late.” She pulled on her coat and picked up her purse.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Turn the sign in the window on your way out.”

Meghan nodded and when she got to the door, flipped the sign from open to closed, then stepped out of the front door of the squat redbrick building.

The sign in the front window of the establishment proclaimed it to be the Lathrop Employment Agency, owned by Mark. Although it was true they functioned as an employment agency on the surface, in actuality the office belonged to SPEAR.

The Washington, D.C., traffic was horrendous as usual, and it took Meghan close to thirty minutes to get to the nearby Happy Time Day Care Center.

She hurried to the cheerful room where Kirk spent his days. “Sorry I’m late,” she said to Harriet Winslowe, the white-haired teacher all the children called Grandma Harry. “Hey buddy.” She held out her arms as Kirk came toddling toward her, a drooly, happy smile decorating his handsome little face.

“Mama.” He grabbed her nose and squealed in delight as she scooped him up and kissed his sweet, chubby neck.

“Was he good?” she asked Harriet.

“Good as gold. I’ve never seen such a happy baby.”

Meghan smiled. “Yes, he is a happy boy.” She shifted Kirk from one side to the other. “And growing like a weed.”

Harriet smiled. “They tend to do that.”

“Yes, they do.”

As Meghan bundled the little boy up in his coat and hat, she and Harriet small-talked about the weather and the imminent Christmas holiday.

“Thanks, Harriet,” Meghan said when Kirk was ready to go. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” Within minutes Meghan had Kirk buckled into his car seat and they were heading to the Georgetown town house Meghan called home.

It was a short drive, but as always, by the time Meghan pulled up at the curb in her usual parking space, Kirk was sound asleep. He wouldn’t take naps during the day, but each evening on the drive home, he fell asleep and usually napped for a full hour.

After parking, she got out then unbuckled her sleeping child from the back seat. As she picked him up, he curled into her and turned his face into the side of her neck.

Meghan’s heart swelled with love. There was nothing quite like the sweet sensation of a child’s sleepy breath against your skin.

She took two steps toward her town house, then paused. Frowning, she realized somebody was seated in the chair on her front porch. It was definitely a male. She squinted, wishing she had a free hand to shove her glasses up more firmly on the bridge of her nose. Drat her myopic vision.

At that moment the man stood and instantly recognition flooded Meghan. There was only one man who held himself with such authority that he appeared to command the very air surrounding him.

Seth.

His name exploded in her head at the same time her arms tightened around her son. On the heels of recognition came anger.

What was he doing here? He’d promised…absolutely promised he’d never talk to her, never see her again. He was her past, and that’s where he’d promised to stay.

As she walked closer, his features came into sharper focus. She’d never known him when he hadn’t needed a haircut, and today was no different. His dark brown hair fell well below the collar of his coat. Despite being unfashionably long and rather shaggy, the style suited his arresting features.

Kirk squirmed, as if protesting in his sleep her tight hold on him. She relaxed her grip a tad, squared her shoulders, then marched ahead, dread rolling in the pit of her stomach.

“Meghan.” He nodded his head in greeting.

Before she could reply, her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Columbus, stepped out on her front porch. As usual, the old woman was clad in a duster, this one a swirl of rainbow colors.

“Yoo-hoo, Meghan, dear.” The old woman waved and smiled broadly, the gesture causing her plump cheeks to nearly swallow her narrow eyes. “I tried to get your friend to come inside and wait for you where it’s warm.”

“He isn’t a friend,” Meghan mumbled beneath her breath. “Thank you, Mrs. Columbus.”