When I'm With You Page 7

  Antoinette laughed. “All those classes he took are finally paying off.”

  “For sure.” He pulled the front door open. “Thank you for all your hard work. Lawsons is a success because of you and Marcus, and I appreciate ya’ll.”

  “That means a lot.”

  “I’m only a phone call away. Whatever you need.” He wagged a finger. “And I’m gonna get Quinten down here.”

  “I know you will,” she said with a smile. “Safe travels.”

  “Thanks.” He stepped out into the late afternoon and was embraced by the meaty arms of heat. He muttered a useless curse under his breath and walked to his car. If he was going to have to pull up stakes and relocate to DC, at least he knew that his enterprises were in capable hands.

  Chapter 11

  “I’m going back to my place after work,” Avery said as she and Kerry walked into a staff meeting.

  “Are you sure? You know you can stay as long as you want.”

  They found two seats in the back of the room, which was already filled with about thirty agents by the time they arrived. The agents would always joke that if all of them were in one room, who was guarding the hen house?

  “Thanks. I appreciate it, but I think the dust has finally settled. Like Rafe said, the reporters will find something else to write about.” She shrugged. “I guess they did. And it’s time for me to put all the pieces of my life back in place, and going home is one of them.”

  “Okay. But you have a key if you change your mind.”

  “’Preciate that.”

  “Say no more. Do you, sis.”

  The director took to the podium and went through his mind-numbing update. Fisher had about as much warmth and personality as an empty plastic bag, but he was good at his job. He was not a nurturer like his predecessor. He didn’t groom his agents; he simply expected them to rise to the challenge.

  Avery let her mind wander while Director Fisher spoke. She’d been back at work for almost two weeks. She’d passed her field test and her labs were clean. Today was her first day back on detail—late luncheon gathering for the senators and donors at the Watergate Hotel. She was assigned to Senator Kevin Banks, a Republican, but she wouldn’t hold that against him. Briefly she glanced around the room, taking in her colleagues. They were all nondescript. They could be anybody or no one, and she fit right in with her well-fitted dark blue suit, hair pulled back into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, dark shades at the ready and underarm holster hugging her agency-issued Glock. She was a part of something bigger than herself, but without the emotional commitment. Maybe that was why this line of work suited her in ways that relationships didn’t. If one of her colleagues were...lost, there would be one nearly identical to replace that person. That wasn’t true of relationships when feelings and desires were involved. Here you weren’t allowed the luxury of “feeling” anything. You did your job.

  She shifted in her seat, crossed her legs. Things were finally returning to a life that she understood, where she was in control. She only took the pain meds when the pain became unbearable, and no one was the wiser. She got her job back, and she was determined to get the promotion that she deserved.

  “Not as boring as usual,” Kerry whispered as everyone began to file out.

  Avery blinked away her musings, smiled and stood. “Thank goodness.” She checked her watch. “I’m on duty in thirty minutes. What’s on your agenda?”

  “I’m stationed at the Capitol. Easy day for me.”

  “I’ll give you a call later.” She patted Kerry’s shoulder and headed off in the opposite direction.

  * * *

  The standard black Chevy Suburban was parked in front of Senator Banks’s townhouse in Reston, Virginia. Avery and her partner for the evening, Agent Brian Halstead, were stationed and waiting.

  “Good to see you back on duty, Richards,” Halstead said.

  “Feels good to be back.” She scanned the area and adjusted her headset.

  “I hear you’re in the running for a promotion.”

  Senator Banks’s front door opened. Avery and Brian moved in unison toward the front door and then escorted Senator Banks and his wife into the vehicle. Senator Banks was the chair of the Foreign Relations Committee and a ranking member of the Judiciary Committee.

  “In the meantime,” she said, taking a last look around before swinging into the front passenger seat, “I still have my job to do.”

  She slid open the partition that separated the security team from the passengers. “ETA is twenty-five minutes, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Avery shut the partition and focused on the road and the afternoon ahead. Tonight she would sleep in her own bed, move one more step toward normalcy.

  Agents were accustomed to the press hovering, jockeying for position to get a shot or shout out a question. They took it in stride, remaining focused on their assignment and protecting those under their care.

  When Avery exited the car to quickly check the scene around the entrance to the hotel, nothing could have stunned her more than to hear her name shouted out from the clutch of reporters huddled nearby.

  Her heart rate escalated so quickly that her breath caught in her throat. Instinctively her head swung toward the sound.

  Senator Banks and his wife stopped in mid-step.

  “When is the wedding, Agent Richards?”

  “Has Rafe Lawson stopped his playboy ways?”

  “Are you still going to work after the wedding?”

  “Does Senator Richards approve?”

  Oh, my God. Her stomach seesawed.

  Brian Halstead threw her a look of alarm and quickly guided the senator and his wife inside. Avery drew in a breath and followed the group inside.

  “What the hell was that?” Senator Banks demanded the instant they crossed the threshold.

  “Senator... I apologize. Everything is under control.”

  He frowned. “It doesn’t appear so, Agent Richards.” He turned to Agent Halstead and spoke to him in hushed tones.

  Halstead nodded. “Yes, sir.” He turned to Avery, and said in an undertone, “The senator wants you to wait here to be replaced by a backup agent. I’m sorry, Avery. I gotta make the call to headquarters.”

  Numbly she nodded, knowing that it was protocol if an agent was compromised. She felt sick. A million thoughts raced through her head. How could this be happening?

  “I’m going inside with the senator and his wife. Backup will be here in ten. You’ll take his car back to Central,” Halstead said, returning to Avery after his call.

  Avery swallowed. “Of course.”

  Agent Halstead turned and walked away.

  Avery felt as if she was standing outside of her body. The feeling was surreal. She paced the lobby floor, and like clockwork her replacement arrived in exactly ten minutes. Her day only grew worse when she saw that Mike was her replacement.

  “Director wants to see you when you get back.”

  “I’m sure,” she managed to say.

  Mike handed her the keys to the Suburban he’d driven to the Watergate.

  She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming, gripped the keys in her hand, turned and walked outside, hoping that she wouldn’t lay eyes on the reporter and be tempted to run him over.

  Chapter 12

  “Hey, Aunt J. Everything all right?”

  “I...don’t know how to say this.”

  Rafe opened the car door. “What is it?”

  “I got a call a little while ago. On the house phone...the woman said she was Janae.”

  The air stopped in his chest. “What?” He gripped the side of the car door.

  “That’s what she said. She said she was Janae and she was trying to reach you.”

  Every muscle tensed. “No. That’s not possible.” He tried to move b
ut couldn’t. “Janae is dead, Aunt J. Dead.”

  “Sweetheart, I know. We all know, but she told me things that only Janae would have knowledge of.”

  The pulse in his right temple began to pound. He shook his head in denial. “What could some imposter possibly have to say to make you think it was Janae?” he snapped. Pure adrenaline pumped through him, sending fire through his veins.

  “She told me about the family photo that we took the summer before...everything happened in New York...and how she didn’t feel right getting in the picture, and that you and Dominique insisted. How would this woman know that, Rafe?”

  His thoughts swung back to that summer day. A family reunion cookout. Everyone was there—all his siblings, significant others of the time, his father, cousins, uncles, and his grandfather Clive presided over the festivities. Melanie Harte, the diva of soirees and matchmaking, was in charge of organizing the family shindig, from sending out the invites to the decorations, to the never-ending menu. He remembered how reluctant Janae was to join in the family photo and how Dominique told her that she was the closest thing to permanent that had ever come into Rafe’s life and she “betta” get in that photo and act like it.

  There was no way that some stranger would know that specific detail.

  “Rafe, are you there?”

  He blinked the past away. “Yes,” he said in a bare whisper.

  “Sweetie, what do you want to do? She left a number. It’s a Florida area code.”

  The knot in his gut tightened. “Florida.” He’d never met her parents, who lived in Chicago, while they dated. “She always told me her parents wanted to relocate to Florida,” he said, in a faraway tone of disbelief. He heard his aunt’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Rafe...could it be...after all this time?”

  “I don’t know how. But if what she says is true, why turn up now?”

  “She said she saw the announcement of your engagement on one of the entertainment channels and knew she needed to reach you.”

  Rafe squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw tightened. He muttered a string of expletives. “Text the number to me.”

  “All right. And Rafe...”

  “Yeah...”

  “This isn’t Dominique’s fault. And whoever this woman is, if in fact she is Janae, you need to find out for certain.”

  Rafe blew out a breath. “Send me the text when you get a minute, Aunt J.”

  “I will.” She paused. “Listen to me...be easy, Rafe,” she gently warned. “I know you...”

  “I’m fine.” He disconnected the call, pulled the door fully open and slid in behind the wheel.

  His head was all over the place. He couldn’t get his thoughts to slow down long enough for them to make sense. How was this possible? He gripped the wheel. Janae Harper was dead. She was one of the countless souls lost that day in the World Trade Center disaster. True, her remains were never discovered, but no one, her family included, believed that she was alive. He’d spent the next two years after the tragedy doing all that he could to find some sign of her, all to no avail. Over time he’d shoved his feelings way down inside and tried to move on.

  For the most part he did keep his feelings and those memories at bay, but there were still those moments when he was alone, or heard a song, or caught a whiff of the perfume Janae used to wear that he’d stumble backward to that horrid day, and all that terror and soul-wrenching heartache would implode.

  His phone chirped. The text was from his aunt, with Janae’s number.

  Rafe stared at the number until the image began to blur. Janae’s face floated across the windshield. His temple throbbed.

  He put the car in gear and somehow made it to his family home without getting into an accident. Shaken, he entered his home like a stranger. Nothing looked familiar. He blinked, shut the door behind him and walked inside. He went into his father’s study.

  Alive. He wouldn’t believe it until he heard her voice for himself. He squeezed the cell phone in his palm. He walked over to the bar and poured a tumbler of bourbon, downed the liquid in two long swallows and poured another. He moved over to the easy chair and flopped down. The 407 area code of Florida burned behind his closed lids.

  The bourbon was making fuzz around the sharp edges. But he needed a clear head. A clear head, ’cause this mess didn’t make sense. It didn’t. This was some b.s.—had to be. He pushed up from the couch, paced, thirsted for another drink but stopped himself.

  Instead, he scrolled through his messages and stopped on the one from his aunt Jacqueline. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, pressed his thumb on the number on the face of the phone. The call connected.

  Each ring sent a shockwave through his system, but nothing could have prepared him for the sound of the voice on the other end.

  “Hello?” the familiar voice said into the phone, piercing through his fog.

  Rafe cleared his throat. “I was given this number—”

  “Rafe! You called.”

  The knot in his gut hardened, expanded until it filled his chest. “Janae.” The name stumbled across his lips.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d call, that you’d believe it was really me.”

  The voice was the same, the soft Southern lilt still there. “I’m still not sure...after all this time.” His voice rose. “How? We—everyone believed you were killed in the towers. All this time,” he repeated in disbelief. “You were alive all this time and you—”

  “Please, I know this is hard, but let me explain.”

  “Explain! You let me believe you were dead. How do you explain that?”

  “It’s complicated. My injuries...were severe.”

  He felt as much as he heard the hitch of pain in her voice, and his anger instantly tempered. Slowly he sat down. This wasn’t about him.

  “There’s still a lot I don’t remember about that day. They told me when they pulled me out that I’d been buried under a lot of rubble. Broken bones, burns, dehydration... I was in a coma for over two months. When I finally woke up in the hospital I didn’t remember anything, not even my own name.”

  Rafe felt sick. He struggled to imagine what she had endured. “But when you remembered...your family...why didn’t someone tell me that you were alive?”

  “I didn’t remember. I only knew what I was being told. Through a bunch of tests and calls they finally found my parents. I didn’t recognize them. They told me they were my parents and I believed them. I stayed in the hospital for almost six months...surgeries, rehab. When I was stable and strong enough to leave they took me to Florida.”

  A knifelike pain twisted in his chest. He struggled to process what she was telling him, tried to connect the dots. She’d had no memory. Two people claiming to be her parents took her back to Florida. How could he be sure that this was Janae and not someone who’d been led to believe that she was? Yet deep in his soul he knew the truth. He knew her voice. Whatever else may have changed, that did not. He’d heard her voice in his dreams for more than a decade.

  “When pieces of my memory began to come back, the only thing that was ever clear was you.”

  The jolt of her words hit like a punch in the gut.

  “Not everything...at first. In the beginning it was only images. I’d see your face, your eyes, your smile. It was my only constant. Over time I remembered more, but never about any other part of my life except with you and me.”

  Rafe listened in numbed silence while Janae told him about things they’d said to each other, places they’d been. She told him about the first time she asked about the scar on his right shoulder and he told her it happened in a motorcycle accident. Whatever reservations he may have had dissolved with every passing moment. This was Janae.

  “But you still haven’t told me why you never let me know you were alive.”

  “My parents made all the decisions. I asked them about you
. They told me that bringing you back into my life wouldn’t be fair to you. That it was best if you thought I was dead.” She uttered what sounded like a sad laugh. “When I looked at myself in the mirror, when I had to be helped out of bed, when the pain would be so bad on some nights that I wanted to die... I believed them. Why should I burden you?”

  “God, Janae. If you know me like you say, you’d know better than to think that. We were in love. Young, but in love. You were my world. When I woke up in that hotel room and found you gone—then saw the towers come down.” His voice broke. “A part of me died that day, too!” He slammed his fist against the wall. “Months and months and no word. I thought I’d go crazy. I blamed myself. If I hadn’t taken you to New York—”

  “Don’t, please don’t. You couldn’t have known. No one could. How could either of us know that me taking a morning jog would change our world?” She paused. “I’m so sorry, Rafe.”

  He paced and ran a hand across his face, surprised that his eyes were damp. “Why now?” he asked quietly. “Why contact me now?”

  “I never stopped loving you. Loving you kept me alive. I want to see you, Rafe.”

  “See me! Now you want to see me?”

  “Rafe...please. At least think about it.”

  He swallowed over the burn in his throat. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you. I’ll wait to hear from you. Goodbye, Rafe.”

  Rafe disconnected the call and squeezed the phone in his palm as if he could break it in half. His tense shoulders slumped.

  “Hey, Rafe. I thought I heard someone talking. What are you doing here?” Dominique asked, coming from the kitchen. He turned to face his sister. Alarm widened her eyes.

  “What the hell?” She rushed over and grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  Rafe lowered his head a moment and then looked at his sister, debating whether he should tell her. “I...something’s happened...”

  * * *

  “Oh my God, Rafe...but... I can’t believe it. All this time. What the hell? Alive! How could she do this?” Her gaze of fury landed on her brother. Her tone immediately softened. “How are you though? I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” She drew closer, looped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “I am so sorry.”