Chapter 12

Devon returned in less than an hour. He was happy that Ali hadn't fought him that much this time about staying behind. He knew she hadn't even thought of going with him. She wouldn't put Bridget in danger and, right now, that was her primary concern. It wouldn't last of course. She just wasn't a woman who could be tied down.

Worse, he had to keep putting off the long talk he felt both of them knew they needed to have. It lingered in the back of his mind, a constant irritation that he couldn't discuss with her yet. Too much was going on right now, and the safety of their daughter was just as important to him. The other factor was Bridget. Alarming her with a discussion of her parentage wouldn't be smart. It also wouldn't give him any traction with Ali. Still, Devon needed answers. Lots of them. After the rush to get back to Hawaii, things were settling down. Their protection was important, but his mind was capable of seeing past the danger now. It was time for explanations.

Bridget and Ali joined him as he cooked the hotdogs he'd bought. It wasn't the most nutritious meal, but he didn't know what to buy. He had walked into the grocery store and almost had a panic attack. He didn't know what girls her age ate. Worse, he worried he would pick something she hated and he would be judged by a four-year-old. Because, a bad ass computer expert was tied in knots over a little girl.

Pathetic.

"Hey, Devon," Bridget said, as she walked over to the table.

She was dressed in a Frozen nightgown and her hair had been brushed back from her face. She was so damned cute and precious. Devon had to resist the urge to brush his hand over the top of her head. Instead, he grabbed Hawaiian macaroni salad and some cut up fruit.

"I hope you like hot dogs," he said.

"I do. Mummy doesn't let me have them often."

He glanced up at Ali. "Considering the circumstances, I think we can indulge for one night.

As they sat down, he saw Ali survey the area. In truth, he was pretty sure she didn't even realize she was doing it. It was part of her training, probably from an early age—considering what her father did for a living. It was as second nature to her as breathing was for a normal person.

He stifled a sigh. He hated seeing her that way. There was a fine edge to her nerves and he knew she was stressed. She never let on to Bridget, though. As they sat and ate, she joked with her daughter and talked of plans for Hawaii.

Every now and then, he could pick up on her tension. A glance at her daughter, a sharp look when she heard a strange noise…she didn't miss anything. Neither did Devon.

"I think it's time to head to bed, poppet," she said.

Bridget frowned. "I'm not tired."

Then she defeated her own argument by yawning.

"Let's go, Bridget. We'll have lots of fun tomorrow swimming. You need your rest though. What do you say to Devon for dinner?"

Bridget gave him a sweet, sleepy smile and his heart turned over. How this little slip of a girl could undo him so easily was beyond him. Right now, though, he wanted to beat the shit out of the bastards who had scared her that night in Seattle.

"Thank you, Devon. It was yummy."

Ali smiled in approval, then she stood and picked her up. "I'll clean up as soon as I get her in bed."

He couldn't talk yet. There was another freaking lump in his throat. He watched Ali take her upstairs and felt something loosen in his chest. Too many emotions were rushing through him, and he needed time to work through them. He had learned at a young age to keep himself busy while he thought out things that were bothering him.

With that in mind, he decided to clean up the dishes.

Alicia got Bridget into bed with a minimum of fuss. Bridget barely argued about it, even though she had a pretty long nap on the plane. Alicia sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Bridget's eyes closed. She brushed a lock of hair off her face.

It seemed so odd that they were in Devon's house in Hawaii. Less than a week ago, he had been more than a passing thought. No, that was wrong. Every time she looked at her daughter, she saw Devon. Those eyes were unmistakable. If ever a time she thought she could forget about the man who fathered her daughter, Alicia just had to look at her.

When she was sure Bridget was sleeping, Alicia made her way down the stairs to talk to Devon. He wanted answers and she couldn't blame him. But…she still didn't trust him completely. He was keeping things from her. Something went on at her house that he wasn't telling her. Micah and Devon considered themselves good liars, but she could always spot them. It was one of the reasons she'd been trained for interrogation. And those two had not been telling her the truth. They had told her shades of the truth, but important things were missing.

She made her way back downstairs to Devon. It would take her a long time to get used to the house. Everywhere she looked there was wood. It was open, airy, and seemed to be part of the environment. It was hard to tell where the house ended and the outside began. He was sitting at the kitchen breakfast bar. The dishes had been stowed away, the counters were pristine.

"I said I would clean up."

He shrugged as his gaze followed her every move. The anger had dissolved, but she knew he didn't trust her. She understood that. Trust was harder to earn than anything else.

"I've been cleaning up my own messes for a while."

She didn't miss the double meaning.

He sipped at a golden-brown liquid she assumed was whiskey. He said nothing, but kept watching her. Something tickled at the back of her throat as she waited for him to say something…anything. And, truth was, she was usually good at this. With all her training, she didn't normally have an issue with a stare down, but this one was starting to get on her nerves. It made her uncomfortable in so many different ways, she didn't know which way to move.

"Stop that."

Cool amusement danced in his eyes. "What?"

"We were both trained, and I know all the tricks. You want answers, ask. Otherwise, stop trying to play games with me, Devon. I promise, you will lose."

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes. Remember, I was raised by a master spy. I know all the games. I know the strategies to win and I rarely worry about who gets hurt in the outcome—unless it's Bridget."

He set his drink down on the counter and sighed. The sound was oddly lonely. She didn't think a man like him lived a very lonely life. He was a millionaire, if not a billionaire. Those type of people always seemed to be surrounded by others.

But now that she thought about their time together, he didn't seem to have anyone in his life. No handlers or hangers' on. He didn't have entourage. Unless she counted sister, brother-in-law, and niece.

"You said you couldn't find me?"

Right to the point. This she could handle. She nodded.

"But, you found me once. I assume MI-6 sent you."

"Yes, I found you, but that was all me. I worked outside of the borders of MI-6. I called in a few favors, but there was nothing official. They didn't know your connection to my father, and I was on vacation when I went looking for you."

He frowned. "Why?"

Those frantic days came rushing back to her with such blinding force it left her a little dizzy. She rarely thought of them now, but whenever she did, Alicia's stomach pitched. Desperation had been her companion as she wondered if she was looking for a dead man. She had been trained for every situation in a spy's life, but that. Searching for her father had been out of the realm of her knowledge.

"My father was missing. I'd been looking for three months before I found you."

"I still don't understand the connection." Confusion stamped his features as his brow furrowed. "For the life of me, I really can't remember his name. Well, the name is familiar, but I know nothing else. At that point, I'd moved on from the CIA and wanted nothing to do with them."

"I went through some of his notes. I could read his shorthand, while others couldn't. He was trying to find you. He was almost desperate with it."

And he had never come to her. To this day, she wondered why he hadn't. He was the one person she trusted in the world but after this, she had wondered if he hadn't trusted her. That hurt almost more than losing him.

"I told you I didn't know your father."

"I believe you, now. Then, I didn't know you at all. All I knew was that he was looking for you. I have no indication on why he was. It was right before he disappeared. I connected the dots."

"Doesn't MI-6 keep track of their spies?"

"Father was retired. Well, semi-retired. I know they consulted him from time to time, but he wasn't out in the field."

Devon frowned. "That young?"

She found a smile then. "My parents had given up on children when I came along. They were both spies, and after a few years of trying, they gave up. Then, when Mum was thirty-eight and my father was forty-five, I surprised them."

"You loved them."

She blinked. "Yes. They were stodgy and set in their ways, but they loved me. I didn't have a traditional upbringing, but I never doubted their love."

He said nothing as he sipped at his whiskey again. "So, your father was looking for me."

"Yes. Father had been reviewing old cases and some old scenarios. We'd had a couple of embarrassing scandals right about that time, and the higher ups were worried something else would come back to haunt us. That's all I knew about his work at the time."

"He didn't confide in you?"

"No. I don't think he could. It would be a conflict of interest, and with me still being active, that made it difficult. Father would bend some of the rules, but when it came to me, he would not compromise."

She could tell by his expression that he thought her father should have told her. Ali couldn't argue with that because she had often thought the same thing. There was always a chance if he had told her what was going on, he might still be alive today.

"Did you ever find anything on his computer?"

"Father didn't trust computers, but he had put a password that even my computer genius cousin couldn't crack."

"So, I was off to Hawaii and you were…what happened then?"

"My cousin called. My father had been shot. He was home then, although I found that surprising because he hadn't answered the phone when I rung him up."

"And he died."

She nodded. It had been one of the worst trips of her life, frantically trying to get back to England and failing. The grief had left her stunned, numb to everything around her.

"I still don't understand why you didn't come looking for me."

"Because, he was looking for you before he disappeared. That's all I knew then. How did I know that you didn't have something to do with whoever ended up coming after him? After spending a night with you, I get a phone call he's been shot. You're nowhere to be found. What would you think?"

He sighed. "That we'd set you up. I'm seeing that now. But, after you found out about Bridget…" Then he shook his head. "No, wait. When did you go on the run?"

"The day after I buried my father."

It was his turn to blink. "That fast? Why?"

"My father had an Aston Martin."

Devon chuckled. "Your father drove a 007 car?"

She smiled. "It was one of his most prized possessions. I think he loved the irony of it, you know? He was known as one of the best spies England ever produced but he was far from what most people think of a spy."

"So, not a James Bond type?"

She shook her head. "Far from it. I said my parents were stodgy and they were. Father always reminded most people of someone who served in Parliament. A bit fussy, very gray around the edges. I guess that was why he was such a good spy. No one paid attention to the old guy who wore suits from the 1980s."

"You left quickly from England?" Devon asked.

"Oh, yes. I was supposed to take the car into London for a debriefing, but the weather turned bad and I wanted to take my Land Rover. The grounds' keeper, Edward, was going to drive it into the garage. It exploded."

"Just like that."

"No. It made this funny clicking sound and I knew the moment I heard it" She fought off the shiver that inevitably raced through her blood. "You don't work in the business and not know. I was running towards it when it went off. I knew then that if I stuck around, I was a dead woman."

"It's all starting to make sense now."

She said nothing else as she could almost hear his brain ticking away with all the information she had told him. One of the things she had read in the reports about Devon was he was a thinker. Not that he couldn't act quickly, but he was a problem solver. And right now, she knew she could catch him off guard because his mind was occupied with something else.

"There's something you're not telling me about my house."

His gaze finally focused back on him. "I should have known you would pick up on that."

"Of course. I knew you and Micah both were lying."

"I didn't lie."

Oh, the arrogance of men. They always seemed to think they could leave things out and she would just ignore it. First her father and now Devon. She needed information, even if it was bad. Had the story she just told him not make a dent in that big, stupid male ego?

"You just didn't tell me." She settled her hands on her hips. "That's a lie of omission."

He tapped his fingers against the glass. She knew he was coming up with some other diversion to get her off the topic. Her stomach clenched. If he was really worried about telling her, it must have been something really, really bad.

"There wasn't much damage."

She fought off a growl. "You said that."

"The only thing we found was a bullet hole in your pillow." She was just getting that assimilated in her head when he continued. "And, there was one in Bridget's pillow."

For a moment, she said nothing. Her heart had almost stuttered to a stop as she tried to come to terms with what he just told her.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "They know about my daughter."

"Yeah, our daughter has a big red target on her back."