Stolen Secrets Page 11

  The phrase was much more suggestive than she’d intended, and she ducked her head, letting her hair fall like a curtain over her face.

  “We’re friends. You don’t have to treat me any differently than you normally would. Just don’t mention my connection to Brandt.”

  The reference to Brandt sobered her. Lately she’d gone for longer and longer stretches of time without thinking about him. He was always there, in the back of her mind, but other thoughts had taken precedence.

  “Okay,” she replied. “We’re neighbors. We’re friends. Got it.”

  Jordan was remarkably relaxed. From what little she’d learned about his job while she was with Brandt, they monitored communications from hostile foreign governments and extremist groups. Brandt had always downplayed the danger. He’d once told her a story about tracking the vibrations in a house for weeks on end. When he said his job was boring, she’d believed him.

  Then she’d read an article about how the National Security Agency had captured a terrorist. They’d monitored the compound for weeks, tracking the vibrations, until they’d discovered one of the occupants never left the compound. His boring job hadn’t seemed quite so boring after that. She should have realized that his work was more dangerous than he let on.

  “You look terrified.” Jordan reached into the back seat for her lunch box. “You’re supposed to be relaxed. As though everything is normal. Just be yourself. I’ll be right there with you. I won’t let anything happen.”

  “I know you won’t let anything happen to me.” How did she explain that her expression had nothing to do with terror and everything to do with their relationship? Despite all that had happened, the weekend had been remarkably uneventful. Spending time with Jordan was a pleasure, and she didn’t know whether to feel guilty or exhilarated or both. “Should we have lunch together? It’s your first day. I’d probably have lunch with a friend on their first day.”

  “Perfect. I’ll meet you in the break room at noon. I won’t see much of you this morning. I have to attend orientation like any other employee. Otherwise, it will look suspicious.”

  “I hope you like coffee.” She chuckled. “Orientation is torturously boring.”

  “Not gonna lie. I’m not looking forward to it.”

  Despite having a top secret security clearance and working for a government contractor, Lucy didn’t know much about undercover work. She also didn’t know what to make of what was happening between them. While she recognized that pieces of their relationship were exaggerated fiction, other parts of their time together felt remarkably authentic.

  He reached for the door, and she grasped his forearm. “Is any of this real to you? Because...because I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. Are we friends?”

  His expression sobered. Cupping the back of her head, he drew her closer, then planted a kiss on her forehead. At the gentle touch of his lips, the world slipped away for a moment.

  “How can you doubt that?” he asked.

  He pulled away and she leaned in. Her heart pounded with uncertainty. More than his words of reassurance, she wanted to kiss him. She needed to feel if what was happening between them was real or all part of a show.

  His lips parted, whether in question or to stop her, she didn’t know. Taking advantage of his brief hesitation, she pressed her mouth against his.

  For a moment he didn’t move. Then his hands lifted to her cheeks in a gentle caress. He murmured something unintelligible and deepened the kiss, his fingers sliding down her back. His touch ignited the tiny spark of hope that had been flickering inside her. She angled her head and he pulled her closer. As she drank in the feel of him, warmth curled inside her.

  “We can’t.” He pulled away abruptly, putting some space between them though his arms were still wrapped around her. “This isn’t right, Lucy.”

  Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. If she pressed her hand against his heart, she was certain she’d discover it was beating as rapidly as hers.

  “Jordan.”

  His hands dropped away and he turned from her. “We better get going. Can’t be late on my first day.”

  Suddenly bereft, she glanced around, grateful there was no one else in the parking lot. At least no one had seen them. She’d be mortified if word of them canoodling in the car wound up as watercooler fodder.

  Clearly she was in over her head and in danger of drowning. She’d felt his response, yet he’d turned away. She was confused and didn’t understand the rules of their relationship. Apparently, neither did Jordan. While that should have comforted her, his contradictory behavior left her isolated and alone.

  Another car pulled into the lot, and she recognized one of her coworkers. It was time to resume the show.

  “Lucy, relax,” Jordan admonished gently.

  “I am relaxed.”

  “It was just a kiss.”

  She turned away before her expression revealed her thoughts. No. He hadn’t felt the same thing at all. For him, it was just a kiss.

  They’d been together too much this past week, that was all. She needed some space. Maybe once she got back to work and returned to her normal routine, the feelings would fade.

  Jordan stepped out of the car, and together they strolled into the building as though nothing had happened. Once inside, she gave him directions to Human Resources for his intake.

  As she stared at his retreating back, he turned. When his eyes met hers, Lucy’s heart skipped a beat, and everything seemed to be in slow motion. She’d wanted to know if what was happening between them was real, and now she had her answer.

  He wasn’t indifferent to her, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

  The question remained. What was she going to do about it?

  ELEVEN

  Two weeks after starting his undercover job with Lucy, Jordan found himself outside the base chapel on a Saturday afternoon. Lucy was with the police going through yet another set of mug shots while Jordan had returned to finish up some loose ends on the project that had brought him to Omaha in the first place.

  His team had completed the tasks in record time, and he’d gone for a run. For reasons he couldn’t explain, his path had led him to the chapel. He glanced down and caught sight of his running shoes. Even if he had an explanation for how he’d wound up here in the first place, he wasn’t exactly dressed for church. As he turned away, someone opened the door.

  Jordan tottered backward to avoid a collision and met the man’s startled gaze.

  “Sorry about that,” the man apologized. “Didn’t see you there.” He held the door with one hand. “Going inside?”

  “No, no.” Jordan swiped at the perspiration on his forehead. “I was just out for a run. I’m not exactly dressed to go inside.”

  “I’m the chaplain, Pastor Byrne. Most folks just call me Chaplain.” He stuck out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Jordan shook the proffered hand and introduced himself.

  Pastor Byrne was tall and tan with a large forehead and steel-gray hair that matched his eyes. His black suit and jacket hung loosely off his lanky frame, and his black leather shoes reflected the afternoon sunlight.

  He rocked back on his heels. “If you have need of the chapel, I have it on good authority there’s no dress code.”

  Shaking his head, Jordan said, “It’s all right. I don’t need anything.”

  “You’ve lost someone, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.” The question caught him off guard, and Jordan’s throat constricted. “How did you know?”

  “You do this job long enough, you get an instinct about things.” The chaplain clasped his hands behind his back. “I was going for a walk. Care to join me?”

  “No. I can’t. I should be getting back.”

  Despite his protests, Jordan hesitated. He felt as though a great pressure was building ins
ide him, and if he didn’t talk to someone, he’d explode.

  “Things happen in this world we don’t always have the answers for.” The chaplain spoke quietly. “I see a lot of grief in this job. A lot of loss. Senseless loss. We look to God in those times, and sometimes He answers by sending us the people we need to guide us.”

  Something had led Jordan here this morning. His meeting had wrapped up earlier than he’d expected. His run had taken him on a different route than normal. The chaplain had been leaving just when he got here. A half-dozen small steps had led him to this place.

  Instead of fighting, he’d choose to see the wisdom in the chaplain’s words.

  He hesitated another moment, then said, “Sure. I have time for a walk.” He checked his phone before stowing it in his pocket once more. No messages. “I’m not stationed here. I’m a contractor.”

  “I thought your hair was a little too long for regulation.”

  Jordan ran his fingers through the length. “Yeah. I’m due for a haircut.”

  “But not too short, I’m guessing. You don’t want anyone to know the extent of your injuries, do you?”

  Jordan stopped in his tracks.

  The pastor halted a few paces ahead of him and held up his hand. “Like I said, you get an instinct for these things. This person you lost, was he killed in the same accident?”

  “Yes,” Jordan replied, his voice hoarse. “A buddy of mine. We worked together. In Pakistan. There was a bombing.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “We got to be friends. It was about a year ago. Sometimes it feels like it was a million years ago, and sometimes it feels as though it was yesterday.”

  The pastor resumed walking. “Tell me about him.”

  At a momentary loss, Jordan considered his answer. No one had ever asked such a pointed question. People generally understood what to say when a family member died. When a friend died, the rules were different. The language wasn’t as established. He felt as though he’d lost a brother, but he hadn’t. Instead of trying to explain to people, he’d stayed silent.

  The chaplain was patiently waiting for his answer, and Jordan said the first things that came to mind. “He was larger than life. Funny. Smart. A good friend. He had a beautiful fiancée. He had everything.”

  “I wish I’d met him.”

  “You’d have liked him. Everyone did.” Jordan cleared his throat. “He wasn’t perfect, don’t get me wrong. We both made plenty of mistakes. That’s the thing. We were young and stupid together, and I wanted to see us when we were old and wise.”

  “Sounds like your friend had a blessed life ahead of him.”

  “He did.” Jordan ached for the kind of love Brandt had found. What would it be like to have someone like Lucy love him unconditionally? To find a partner to spend the rest of his life with. He couldn’t even imagine. “Brandt had found peace. I’d never seen him so happy. He’d have made a great husband. A great dad.”

  Jordan’s attempts at speaking with his own dad about the loss were futile. His dad had been raised during a time when men didn’t speak about their feelings, and he was uncomfortable with emotion—especially from his son. He wasn’t an insensitive man—he simply didn’t know how to speak about those kinds of things, so he remained silent. A trait Jordan had learned to utilize on occasion, as well.

  “What about you?” the chaplain asked. “Do you see those things in your future? Marriage? Children?”

  “I don’t know anymore.” Pressure built behind Jordan’s eyes. “Since the bombing, everything feels temporary. I don’t know how to explain it. Everything feels so close to the end. If your life can be taken from you in an instant, what’s the point of planning for a future? I know it’s not logical, but that’s how it feels.”

  “When have feelings ever been logical?” The pastor stepped beneath the shade of a crabapple tree and leaned his shoulder against the trunk, then crossed his arms. “I’ll bore you with the abbreviated version of the speech I give returning soldiers. It goes something like this. In the field, you’re trained to control human instinct and emotion toward one goal—completion of the mission. The effects of living in that state while navigating a hostile environment are both biological and physiological. When someone dies in the field, that mission feels incomplete. The sense of unfinished business complicates the grieving process, even under the best of circumstances. And most deaths overseas are complicated.”

  “That’s just it, though. I haven’t earned this grief. I have no right to it.” Jordan felt his chin wobble and hated the show of weakness. “I wasn’t his brother. I was only his friend. I don’t have a right to feel this way.”

  “You have every right.” For the first time, a thread of steel ran through the chaplain’s voice. “We have the family we are born with and the family we choose. Neither is more significant than the other.”

  Jordan studied the tops of his running shoes. “I suppose you’re right. We were as close as family.” Dappled sunlight filtering through the tree leaves created shimmering patterns on the grass. “I didn’t realize how much I still miss him until recently.”

  Why were these feelings surfacing now? He’d grieved. His physical wounds had healed. Then he’d finally screwed up the courage to give Lucy the ring, and something had shifted inside him. He missed having someone he trusted when he was in the field.

  Everyone assumed he had survivor’s guilt, and while there was a thread of truth in that, the reality was far more complex. He wasn’t a cliché. There was no point in wondering why he had survived and Brandt had not. Some questions didn’t have answers. Why, then, had this void opened inside him?

  “There are no rules to mourning.” The chaplain spoke into the silence. “We’d all like to believe there are five clear stages, and once we’ve navigated them, the grieving is over. Loss isn’t like that. There are no rules. We cycle in and out, and sometimes we even get snagged in one stage and can’t break free. That’s when we need help to get unstuck.”

  Jordan hadn’t realized how much he’d kept bottled inside until now. The surgeon had urged him to talk to a professional because that was par for the course when an agent was injured in the field. He’d ignored the suggestion. Then Lucy kissed him, and his feelings had been churned up again. Everything was jumbled inside him: sorrow, loss, guilt and—somewhere in the mix—a desperate sense of longing.

  “Is there something else?” The chaplain curled his thumb and forefinger against his lips. “I sense there’s something troubling you beyond the loss of your friend. I can assure you, there’s very little I haven’t heard during my time in this job. I’m not here to judge.”

  Maybe it was because he was speaking to the chaplain that Jordan was compelled to confess what had been bothering him the most this past week.

  He sucked in a breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve been spending time with Brandt’s fiancée. Not romantically. It’s, well, it’s hard to explain. She’s the only other person who understands what I’m feeling. But when I’m with her, I feel like I’m living another man’s life.”

  “Are you in love with her?” At Jordan’s shocked expression, the chaplain only smiled. “You made a point of saying that you weren’t seeing her romantically. Makes me think you’d like to.”

  Jordan’s chest ached because he wasn’t ready to admit he had those kinds of thoughts about her. Not out loud. Not to another person. He didn’t even want to admit those feelings to himself. She wasn’t his, and she never had been.

  Not wanting to lie, he said, “I think I could.”

  He’d been well on his way to falling in love with her for some time. When Brandt was alive, his feelings had been harmless. She was funny, bright and pretty. What guy wouldn’t like someone like that? Because of his friendship with Brandt, his affection for Lucy had been safe and contained. A bit of harmless fun. Those same feelings didn’t seem harmless no
w.

  The chaplain plucked a dangling leaf from the branch above him. “Would that be so bad? Falling in love?”

  The blood rushed in Jordan’s ears. “Yes. No. Maybe.”

  Acting on his feelings was a betrayal of everything he stood for. He prided himself on his loyalty, and that hadn’t changed with Brandt’s death.

  “Your friend—”

  “Brandt,” Jordan supplied.

  The chaplain resumed walking, his attention focused straight ahead. “You grieve Brandt because he was an important part of your life. You miss him deeply because he was woven into the fabric of who you are, and now the pattern has changed. When people mean that much to us, we can’t help feeling profound pain. Perhaps the best thing we can do is dedicate ourselves to being a meaningful part of someone else’s life. To pass along that gift. Because that’s the beauty of joy, isn’t it? It’s best when it’s shared.”

  They’d reached the end of the path, and Jordan glanced at his fitness watch. He’d promised Lucy he’d be home when she returned.

  Just the thought of seeing her gave him butterflies. Actual butterflies like they talked about in books and movies. But if he gave in to his own feelings, he’d be placing Lucy in an impossible situation. He wasn’t going to risk their friendship.

  The chaplain turned in the direction of the chapel once more. “How long are you assigned at the base?”

  “I don’t know,” Jordan replied, grateful for the change of subject. “Things are up in the air now. Maybe a couple more months. Then it’s back to Maryland.”

  “Ah.” The chaplain nodded. “You’re with the National Security Agency. I should have guessed. Don’t worry. Anything you say to me stays within the sanctity of the church.”

  Jordan recalled the ring wrapped in blue silk, and his thoughts grew troubled. He’d made a few discreet inquiries about the woman Brandt had been speaking with in the hotel lobby in Pakistan. Nothing had panned out. All of his leads had turned out to be dead ends.

  “I have a question,” Jordan began, unsure how to even phrase his concerns.