Release

Nate rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble of another ten-hour workday. “Physically he’s improving, but he’s still in a major depression.”

“That’s only to be expected.”

“It’s still tough. The guy’s been in the service since he got out of college. And he was in the ROTC before that. All he knows is fighting.”

“They’re doing amazing things with prosthetics now. In a few years, he’ll be able to do almost anything he could with his real hand. He just needs to be patient.”

“Patient? Seth? Not gonna happen.”

“He has no choice, though, does he?”

“You’re right about that. I just feel bad for the guy.”

“I feel bad for all of us.” Her head went down and she sighed loudly. “I’m so tired. I just want my life back, you know? I want to go to a movie. I want to sleep late and go on dates and shop for shoes. But every time I try to slack off, this major wave of guilt hits me. What if they use the weapon today? What if a village is massacred while I’m watching TV?”

“You can only do what you can do. One step at a time. But it’s important for you to take some breaks. This pace is going to kill you.”

“I exercise on the treadmill. I take vitamins. I’m fine.”

“You’re pale as a ghost. You need to get outside more.”

“It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“I wasn’t just talking about tonight.”

“Soon. I promise.” She sighed.

“Do you need anything else?”

“A team of graduate students would be nice.”

“Anything I can get you?”

“No,” she said, smiling just a bit.

“That’s a good look on you.”

She frowned, looking down at her lab coat. “This?”

“The smile.”

“Sweet but unnecessary. I’m fine. I’m not going completely nuts yet. And, as I’ve mentioned, I’m close.”

He nodded, getting the hint. “Fine. I’m out of here. But don’t be surprised to see me Friday.”

“I’ll have to remember to look at a calendar.”

“Do that.” He touched her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not all going to go to hell if you have a nice dinner.”

“Sweet man, it’s already gone to hell.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

4

HARPER HUNG UP THE phone, but she didn’t move. It was late, she should go to sleep. Tomorrow was a long day and she had to meet with the accountant, which made it even worse. But she hadn’t heard Seth come back yet, and that worried her.

There was no question that he needed counseling. But he was such an incredibly stubborn fool that he wouldn’t hear of it. Stupid, stupid. Now that Kate had turned her down, what was she supposed to do? Throw him out on the street? The man was wanted, and if those pricks from Omicron found him, they wouldn’t kill him fast.

She leaned back in her chair, cursing yet again the day she’d gotten involved in this mess. The dreams about Serbia were a nightly affair now. It didn’t matter how late she went to bed, what she ate or drank, how exhausted she was. She kept finding herself back among the dead.

What would it take to purge herself of these memories? Of the smells that filled her nostrils from thousands of miles and years away? Her head told her she wouldn’t be free until Omicron was exposed, but her gut told her it was worse than that. She’d broken her cardinal rule: don’t get involved.

Shit. She should have walked away and never looked back. Kept her eyes on her work and nothing more.

Where the hell was he? She couldn’t even call the police to report him missing, now, could she? It ticked her off that she was even thinking about Seth. He was gone? Good. Let him stay gone. He was nothing but trouble.

Harper got up and headed toward her bedroom. It felt good to have her home as her own once more, even though it really wasn’t her home. Nate had found this place and he’d wanted it because of the basement. Having a trauma room at the ready was fine for the rest of them, but for her it was a sword of Damocles. For the first six months she’d awakened at every noise, at every creak, certain she would end up watching over someone’s death just before the place was raided and she was killed.

Great way to live.

The only thing that had gotten her through it was her work at the clinic. Nate had objected, of course, but she’d told him just where he could go. The job had become her world. She’d kept a nice distance from the staff, but she’d put her all into each patient. That she had to do administrative tasks was bearable as long as she got in her treatment hours.

That’s when it all made sense. When she was helping people. Healing. Everything else in her life might have gone down the toilet, but at the clinic she gave hope, care, medicine, guidance. Nothing was better than that. She had a reason. A purpose.

She got ready for bed, taking her time in the bathroom as she gave her face a good cleansing and a minty mask. In the bedroom, she fluffed her pillows and pulled up her comforter. The room itself was spare—she hadn’t spent much on decorating. Now, as she looked around the place, she wished she’d at least picked up some vases, put some fresh flowers on the counters or by her bed.

By the time she’d gotten the chill out of her feet and read a few chapters in a book she might never have time to finish, it was past midnight. Still Seth hadn’t returned. She wondered if he’d been arrested. Or shot.

She turned out the light, determined to fall asleep immediately, curious if Seth’s absence would give her a dreamless night. She hoped so.

SETH STOOD BY THE pay phone in front of the twenty-four-hour supermarket. It was late as hell, and he was so cold he could barely feel his fingers, but he didn’t want to go back, not yet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have the number or the correct change. It was that he had no idea what he was going to say.

His parents had thought he was dead. They’d had a funeral for their only son, and he knew that they had died a little themselves to have watched his casket lowered into the ground.

Now they knew he was alive. Not by hearing the words from their son’s mouth but from watching a U.S. senator denounce him as a traitor to his country. Seth couldn’t even imagine the pain his folks had gone through and the questions they must have.

It killed him to know he couldn’t just take off for Seattle and talk to them, explain that he wasn’t a criminal and that he hadn’t disgraced them.

He thought about his little sisters. They weren’t so little anymore, but he’d always see them as the two brats who followed him everywhere, who cried each time he had to leave for assignments that were shrouded in mystery.

His family, who’d stood behind him no matter what, had gone through hell the last couple of years. What was he going to say on this goddamn public phone that would make things better? Even more of a concern was that Omicron might have his parent’s phone bugged.

He thought about what had happened to Christie. She’d thought—they’d all thought—that Nate was dead. She was Nate’s only sister, and his death had been hard on her. Of course, she’d never suspected anything like Omicron when someone began stalking her. She’d just gotten frantic as the stalker had gotten closer and closer, and then Boone had gone to help. Together, they’d discovered that it wasn’t just a stalker. It was Omicron, convinced that Nate was alive, sure that if they made Christie desperate enough, she’d reveal Nate’s whereabouts.

They’d caught the guy directly responsible for stalking her and a few other hit men, but Christie couldn’t go back to her old life. Like him, like all of them, she was on the run—and would be until Omicron was exposed. The only bright spot had been that she and Boone had become a couple. At least Boone had someone who wouldn’t laugh at him.