Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As Jason parked the car, his eyes scanned the park. Kids played on the playground to the right, and a community garden spread to the left. Tall trees provided shade for picnic benches and people lounging on the grass.

His trained gaze swept over the scene: homeless men by the bathrooms, families near the swings, joggers on shaded paths. Nothing set off alarm bells, but with Alisa in the car, he stayed cautious.

"What's wrong?" Alisa asked, her tone sharp. "Do you see someone?"

"No," he replied, still watching. "Just being careful."

"Because of me?"

"Because it's my job."

"Where are you supposed to meet Patrick?"

"By the community garden. It's right there. You'll be able to see me the whole time."

"Okay, good. I'll be fine, Jason."

He had a feeling she was trying to convince herself as much as him, and he impulsively put a hand on her leg. "You will be fine," he said, drawing her gaze to his.

She nodded. "Thanks. You always seem to know what I need to hear. You're very insightful."

He had to grin at that comment. "You might be the first woman who ever thought I told her what she needed to hear."

Her lips curved into a smile. "So, you're not that perceptive?"

"Not when it comes to women. Danger, yes. Women, no."

"Well, I think you're doing a pretty good job handling both right now. Maybe you don't give yourself enough credit."

"You might be giving me too much. I get tunnel vision when I'm working. I put my job before everything and everyone else. That never works in a relationship. That's why I stay single."

"Maybe you've just never met anyone you wanted to put ahead of your job. When two people really connect, they want to be together. They want to give the other person what they need. If the feelings aren't strong enough to distract you from work, then it's not the right relationship."

He was thinking about that when he saw Patrick get out of a car down the block. "That's him," he said, relieved to get back into work mode because the conversation was getting too personal. "I'll be back soon. Here are the keys. Lock the doors when I get out. Can you climb behind the wheel?"

"I think so, but do I need to?"

"If anything happens, I need you to drive away. I'll be fine on my own. I want you to be safe. If you punch in the first number on the phone screen, you'll be connected to my team, and they'll help you. But first, get the hell away from here."

"You're scaring me again," she said, giving him a worried look.

"I'm sure nothing will happen, and I won't be far away, but you have to do what I say, Alisa. Under no circumstances will you get out of this car. Promise me."

"I promise," she said. "Good luck with Patrick."

He didn't know if he needed luck to deal with his father's best friend, but he would probably need some mental fortitude to keep Patrick out of the investigation. Like Stephanie, he was going to want revenge, too.

Jason stepped out of the car, hearing the lock click behind him as he headed toward the garden. Patrick, tall and thin, standing under a tree, phone in hand, his sharp gaze sweeping the park like the seasoned FBI agent he had been for thirty years. Dressed in casual slacks and a polo, Patrick looked more ready for golf than a stakeout.

"Jason," Patrick greeted him, relief in his voice. "Glad you came."

"You sounded worried. What’s going on?"

"It’s Novikov. I heard he's in LA."

"Where did you hear that?"

Patrick hesitated, then said, "It doesn't matter. You need to step out of the investigation. With your last name, you'll have Novikov's target on your back. He hated your father, and he would be more than happy to take you out, too."

"That won't happen. I'm going to catch him this time."

"You have the same glint in your eyes that your father used to get when he thought he had a chance to bring Novikov in. That made him reckless."

"He wasn't reckless; he was set up. There's a difference."

"I know." Patrick ran a hand through his hair. "I understand where you're coming from. I want to see Novikov get what he deserves as much as you do, but you're too close to the situation. It's too personal. I'm surprised Damon is allowing it."

"He trusts me to get the job done."

"And you're going to do that job with Flynn MacKenzie's team?"

He stiffened. "Do we really need to talk, Patrick, because you seem to know everything already?"

"I have a lot of friends in law enforcement. You can't believe Novikov's appearance on US soil is a secret."

"I figured the news would leak, but we're keeping the operational details within a tight circle. And you should understand why."

"Because someone set your father up," he said with a sigh. "I still rack my brain, wondering who the hell betrayed our team. It makes me angry that I haven't been able to figure it out. I've let down my best friend, my brother. Your father saved my life on more than one occasion, and he was my conscience. If I got a little too close to a line I shouldn't cross, he would yank me back. He would tell me we have to do it the right way."

"That sounds like my father."

"I still can't believe he's gone. At random times, I'll hear his voice in my head. It always surprises me how clear it is. I'm sure you're going through the same thing."

He missed his father, but he didn't hear his voice in his head. What he remembered most was his father's hard profile. He was always looking away, looking at someone else, never looking back at him. That was, sadly, what he remembered the most. But when that image ran through his mind, he reminded himself that there had been some good times.

They had shared beers after work as he got older and more involved in his father's world. Having something in common had brought them closer together, but even then, there had been a distance between them. But he wasn't going to share his thoughts with Patrick. It would sound like he was bashing his father, and he wasn't.

Drew Colter had been a hero. He'd saved many lives in his career. He just hadn't been the best dad. But now that he was an agent, he understood it was difficult to serve country and family. His father had made his choice. The same one he was making now. Not that he had a family anymore. In some ways, that gave him freedom because he no longer had to worry about disappointing anyone, or that one day they'd get the worst call of their lives, that he was gone. There was no one to get that call now.

He frowned, realizing he was losing his focus, which tended to happen when he got caught up in Patrick's stories about his dad.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Did you have something else to tell me? Because you could have mentioned this concern in a text."

"It's about Mick. He doesn't want to capture Novikov; he wants to kill him."

"Okay. I can't say a lot of other people don't feel the same way. I'm sure you wouldn't mind putting a bullet in him. Nor would Stephanie. But I'm determined to get justice, not vengeance."

Patrick smiled. "Your father would be proud to hear you say that. And I won't deny I wouldn't mind if justice was served with a bullet, but that's not my call. I just wanted to warn you that Mick often has his own agenda. He and your father worked together in Eastern Europe and in the Soviet Union when they were both young, determined-to-be-great agents for their respective agencies. I heard a story that at one point, they had a chance to take Novikov into custody, but their agencies thought he would have more value as an asset, so they were ordered to turn him and then let him go."

"No way. I never heard this," he said in disbelief.

"This was over thirty years ago. Novikov was not the master terrorist he is now. He was twenty-five years old at the time and had just left the KGB and was working for the Bratva. It wasn't unusual to try to get eyes into operations happening in that part of the world, but Novikov conned them. He wasn't turned. Six months later, he blew up a train station in Berlin, and that’s when your father and Mick became obsessed with bringing him in. For three decades, they chased him. I think your father's obsession made him act too impulsively three years ago. He was desperate to get the man who had always eluded him."

He'd seen his father's obsession, but he'd never heard the story Patrick had just told him. "My father and I talked about Novikov a lot, especially three years ago when we knew he was in LA. My dad never mentioned having him in custody and letting him go. When did he tell you this? And why wouldn't he have told me when we were working the case together?"

"He told me a very long time ago, probably a year after it happened. As for why me and not you? It's easier to tell your partner a secret that makes you look bad than your son. He wanted your respect."

He didn't know what to make of the story. "All right. Let's say that's all true. Why are you telling me now?"

"I'm afraid Mick might use you to lure Novikov out of hiding, to tempt him to take out another FBI agent named Colter."

"That won't happen. I'm too smart and I'm too careful. I learned a lot the last time we went after Novikov."

"You can be as careful as you want. Mick has connections everywhere. And he's sneaky."

Patrick's words reminded him that Mick had been the one to send him the video from the plane. He could have gone to anyone, but he'd given him the information. "I know who Mick is," he said. "I don't trust him, but I will use him if I have to."

"He'll use you, too."

"I thought you, Mick, and my father were all friends," he said.

"We had to work together at times, but we were always working for competing agencies. There was always a line we didn't cross. I'm afraid that Mick's obsession will now take him over that line. And I don't want you to pay the price."

The blare of a car horn snapped his attention to the fountain, where a man pulled out a gun. Jason shoved Patrick behind the bushes just as the first shots rang out, a bullet whizzing past his ear.

Jason drew his weapon as screams echoed through the park and as people scattered. Peering over the bush, he glimpsed the shooter jumping into a van before it sped away .

"He's gone," he said to Patrick, whose eyes were filled with fury.

"Who the fuck was that?" Patrick said. "Did you see him?"

"The back of him. Male, probably in his twenties or thirties, wearing jeans, a blue windbreaker, and a navy-blue cap on his head," he said as they both stood up. Sirens blared as police cars pulled up in the lot and began running through the park. He tucked his weapon under his jacket and pulled out his badge.

As one officer neared them, he showed him his badge and told him what he'd seen.

Many more questions followed as he and Patrick spoke to the police.

He kept an eye on the car, where Alisa was sitting behind the wheel with a concerned expression on her face. He'd told her to drive away at the first sign of trouble, which, of course, she hadn't done. Instead, she'd hit the car horn and quite possibly saved his life.

That puzzled him. The gunman hadn't tried to shoot the car with Alisa in it. They'd been after him—or Patrick. But Patrick was retired and an unlikely target.

As if reading his mind, Patrick leaned in and murmured, "They were aiming for you, Jason. No one cares about me anymore. I'm retired." Patrick paused. "Who's the woman in the car? The one you keep staring at. She with you?"

"Yes, she's with me. You ever hear of a man named Daniel Hunt?"

There was a blank look on Patrick's face. "No. Who is he?"

"I'm not sure. But he's important to Novikov, and I have to figure out why."

"I could do some digging. I have contacts."

"No. You need to stay out of this. I told Stephanie the same thing. I don't know who set us up before, but it could be someone we all knew and trusted. We need to leave our former contacts out of this, or the same thing could happen."

"I just want to help. "

"You can help by standing down. Like you said, you're retired. Go play some golf or something."

Annoyance ran through Patrick's eyes. "I can do more than play golf."

"You can, but you've earned the time off. You've served your country well." He paused. "I appreciate your concern, but now I'm worried you're going to be a target because you're talking to me. I can't let that happen. I need you and Stephanie to stay safe. Please, just let me handle this."

"All right. I'll let you handle it because I know you can. You're your father's son."

He didn't like the comparison, but getting Patrick to back off was the main goal, so he just nodded and said thank you. Then he sighed as another police officer motioned him over. He had more questions that he would have to answer before he could get back to doing what he needed to do—catch Novikov.

Jason was taking forever , Alisa thought as she sat in the car, her hands tightly clasped together. But he was all right. He was alive, and that was what mattered.

She still couldn't believe someone had taken a shot at him in broad daylight in a busy, crowded park. When she'd seen the man step behind the fountain and pull out a gun, she'd wanted to jump out of the car and scream Jason's name. But the horn had been faster and louder. It had given Jason a split second to see what was happening. She'd still screamed when the shots rang out and Jason and Patrick had disappeared behind a bush, holding her breath until she saw the gunman run to a car and speed out of the parking lot. She'd made a mental note of the license plate, hoping that would provide Jason with a much-needed clue.

It was another fifteen minutes before Jason made his way back to the vehicle. She opened the locks to let him in, then crawled over the console to the passenger seat.

"Are you okay?" she asked, as he slid behind the wheel.

"Thanks to you."

"I couldn't believe it when I saw that man pull out a gun. And he was looking at you. I thought I was the target."

"It looks like you have company."

She frowned at his light tone. "He could have killed you."

"But he didn't. Thanks to your quick thinking. Did you get a look at him?"

"He was too far away to see his face. But I got his license plate number."

"Seriously?" he asked in surprise.

She rattled off the letters and numbers. "I'm pretty sure that was it."

He pulled out his phone and made a note of what she'd told him. "I'll send this to my team. You're amazing, Alisa."

"I just looked at his car; I wasn't that amazing." She paused. I don’t think I could have handled seeing you get hit. Seeing you on the ground..."

Jason cupped her face, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "I’m fine, Alisa. I’m here."

"You almost weren’t," she murmured.

"But I am."

She licked her lips, her nerves still raw. "I’m still numb."

His voice dropped. "Then feel this." And he kissed her.

She closed her eyes, leaning into his kiss, savoring the heat that seared right through the icy fear that had gripped her heart when she'd thought she might lose him, too.

But this kiss was real. It was hot and sexy. It gave her a lot more to think about than just relief because her whole body was tingling.

The rest of the world fell away. She wasn't aware of anything going on outside of the warm, feel-good bubble they were suddenly in. But then Jason's phone buzzed, and he pulled away from her with a muttered swear. She felt the same way about the interruption, the reminder that their momentary escape from reality was already over.

"What is it?" she asked as he checked his phone.

"Just confirmation that they're tracing the plate and checking traffic cameras around this area to see if they can find the shooter."

"Cameras," she echoed, suddenly wondering if a camera might have caught their kiss.

He smiled. "Traffic cameras at intersections. Nothing right here."

"That's good and bad. That means the shooting probably wasn't caught on camera. I should have taken a video."

"You did better than that by warning me."

"I was almost too late. I should have honked earlier when I first saw him."

He shook his head. "No. I wouldn't have wanted you to draw attention to yourself."

"Why are they trying to kill you now? Or was that about Patrick?"

"I believe I was the target. Patrick is retired. And he's not working this case." He paused, frowning. "But…"

"But what?" she asked, seeing an odd gleam in his eyes.

"I know someone didn't follow us to the restaurant. Which means someone followed Patrick."

"Who? Novikov?"

"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Patrick wanted to warn me that a CIA agent who is involved in the investigation might have a personal vendetta against Novikov. That agent also worked with my father for years. In fact, Patrick told me an odd story I hadn't heard before about how my father and this agent caught Novikov thirty years ago, but at the time he wasn't deemed to be a threat. Their agencies told them to turn him and use him as an asset. He conned them and blew up a train station six months later, the first of many attacks he's taken credit for. That apparently was what drove my father's obsession to get Novikov. And perhaps this CIA agent shares that obsession."

"What does that mean? Are you suggesting this CIA agent might have said something to Patrick, which led Patrick to ask you for a meeting, and then the agent followed you to the park and took a shot at you?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous," he said. "It's more likely Patrick started digging into Novikov's reappearance, and someone caught wind of that and didn't like it. They had someone follow Patrick to the park and find an opportunity to take him out. Luckily, they missed. This is why the circle has to be tight. I told Patrick to stay out of it. I hope he listens."

"What about the CIA agent? Are you going to trust him now?"

"I wasn't going to trust him before Patrick told me the story. But I don't care if he has a hidden agenda. If he's useful in bringing down Novikov, that's all that matters." He paused. "I'm just glad I left you in the car."

"I'm happy you weren't the target, although we can't be too sure that they didn't want to kill both of you."

He met her gaze. "No, we can't. But it doesn't matter, because it didn't work."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Find Novikov and arrest him before he can kill anyone else, including me."

She wanted to believe him, but it was feeling like this Novikov had all the power, and now, she was afraid for both of them.