Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alisa found her eyes getting heavy as she sat in a chair next to her mother's bed. The events of last night and today were catching up to her. It was only eight-thirty, but she felt emotionally and physically exhausted, too tired to even worry about what was coming next. She'd spent the past hour trying to figure out things that made no sense, like where her dad was, why her mother was being poisoned, who had wanted to kidnap her and then kill her.

With no answers to any of those questions, her mind moved to Jason, to the very attractive FBI agent who had suddenly become her protector and maybe the only person she could trust. Her father had deserted her, and her mother was lying about something. She had no one else she could talk to, except Jason.

He wanted answers as much as she did, although his interests were much broader than hers. She wanted to know who was trying to kill her mother and herself. He wanted to know that, too, but he also wanted to find a terrorist.

It still blew her mind to think she had somehow become the target of a Russian terrorist. She lived such a normal life. She went to work every day to a job she mostly liked. She had friends to spend time with, although her big nights out usually involved a movie or dinner, maybe the occasional concert. She dated, although they'd all been duds, including Tim, her latest so-called boyfriend, who had never even responded to her breakup text. But other than that, she did nothing all that exciting.

And her parents didn't, either. They had friends over for barbecues. They went to events at the school where her dad taught or at the library where her mother worked. And they were both book people. They loved to read, especially on Sundays, when she'd often find them on the couch, each curled up with a book.

That image in her head was followed by other images just as happy and so ordinary: her dad making pancakes on Sundays because that was his day to cook and eat a big breakfast; her mom planting flowers in the garden she loved; her father taking care of his mountain bike, the one he'd ride on the weekends, getting in his miles on Saturdays when he didn't have to work.

He'd always come back tired and sweaty but looking happy. And the first thing he did when he came in the house was to kiss his wife. Then he'd look for her to ask what she was doing, if she had any problems, if anyone was bothering her. He'd always been very interested in her life. He'd wanted to know all the details. Even when she'd grown up and moved out and started working at the hospital, he always checked in at least two to three times a week to catch up, sometimes more.

That wasn't the kind of man who would get involved with a terrorist. There was not a hint of violence in his personality. He was quiet and kind.

But the man she'd known would be here now, and he wasn't.

She was jolted back to reality by the vibration of her phone in her lap. She glanced at the screen, expecting spam since she didn't recognize the unfamiliar number. But as she read the message, her heart pounded in her chest.

The text was from her dad.

I'm sorry, Alisa. I know you must have questions, that you probably think I've abandoned you and your mother, but I'm doing what I have to do to keep you both safe. I can't explain. I wish I could, but I need you to trust me, and I need you to help me out. I think your mother is being poisoned. Ask the doctor to check her blood and get her protection.

As for you, don't go back to your apartment. In fact, it would be better if you left town. I know you won't want to leave your mother, but you'll both be safer if you're apart.

Lastly, please don't tell anyone you've heard from me. Your life and your mother's life might depend on that. I promise to tell you everything as soon as I can. But please know that I love you. Whatever happens, know that.

Anger flared inside her as she read his words. Whatever happens? Too much had already happened. And how exactly was he keeping them safe from afar? They both could have been dead by now. Whatever he was doing to protect them wasn’t worth much.

At least she knew he was alive. He still cared. He hadn't just dropped off the face of the earth. But she didn't know where he was or why he'd left. Clearly, he'd guessed her mother was being poisoned, but what would have made him think that? And if he believed that, why wasn't he here? Why hadn't he called the doctor and told him what he thought?

She also didn't understand his demand for her silence. He had no right to demand anything, to ask for her trust. He wasn't here. She was in charge of keeping her mother and herself safe.

As the door opened, she jumped, instinctively clicking off her phone as she got to her feet.

Jason gave her a questioning look as he entered the room. "How's it going?"

"Same," she muttered, walking over to him so as not to disturb her mother. "Her lab results showed slight improvement, which is good. She was up for a little while, but she didn't want to talk to me about anything. She said her head was too foggy, and she couldn't make sense. Then she fell asleep. She'll probably be out until morning. "

"Then why don't I get you out of here?"

"I don't really want to go somewhere and be alone. I'd probably feel safer staying here."

He gazed back at her with reassuring blue eyes. "You won't be alone, Alisa. I'll stay with you."

She swallowed hard at that piece of information. She felt safe with him, but she also felt other emotions that were probably a little dangerous. And judging by the way he'd kissed her, he had some of the same feelings. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. We'll talk to your mother in the morning. She'll be safe. I promise you that. We found a time-release capsule in the flowers. They were delivered by the orderly—who we’ve now confirmed was Victor Kashin. My guess is he went to your mother's room before he clashed with you in the garage."

She thought about what he'd said. "So, he just dropped off flowers with a toxin that would be released over time? Why would he do that? If he wanted to hurt her, she was probably pretty vulnerable when he went into her room with the flowers. She was asleep. Weak. He could have smothered her with a pillow." She shuddered at that thought.

"He wasn't there to kill her, just to poison her. And don't ask me why, because I don't know. All I can say is that someone did not want your mother dead, just incapacitated."

"But they were fine to kill me in my car."

He met her gaze. "Yes."

She let out a breath. "You don't like to make things seem better than they are, do you?"

"Not when it's important that you stay on high alert."

"Oh, I'm on high alert. I jump at every noise, every shadow. It seems unimaginable I'll ever feel safe again."

"You will," he said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes." She grabbed her bag and followed him out of the room and downstairs to the lobby.

As they walked through the front door of the hospital, her steps slowed. "Where is the car parked? "

"Right in front. And the valet has had his eye on it since I parked." He gave her a knowing look. "You don't have to worry about the car."

She didn't think she was going to stop worrying about the car or anything else. And as much as she wanted a break from the hospital, she was also afraid to leave. The world seemed like a very scary place right now.

When they got to the black SUV, he paused. "Before we get in the car, I want you to turn off your phone. I don't want anyone tracking you."

"What if the hospital needs to reach me? If my mom's condition changes, I'll have to come back."

"I've given the nurse new contact information for you. Any calls will be relayed to an encrypted phone at the safe house. You won't miss a call about your mother. I've made sure of that."

"Well, it seems like you've thought of everything," she said, although she wasn't just thinking about the hospital not being able to reach her. She would be cut off from her father, too. But she doubted he'd be getting in touch again soon. And she'd be back here tomorrow and be able to use her phone again.

When Jason started the car, she felt a wave of panic.

"It's going to be fine," he told her, clearly reading her mind. He let the car roll a few feet, then tapped the brakes, even though it wasn't needed. "See…We can stop if we have to."

Despite Jason’s calm, Alisa’s hands clenched in her lap as they descended the hill. Her breath quickened, dread curling in her stomach. It was only a five-minute drive to the intersection below, and she'd made this drive a thousand times without a second thought, but it was dark, the road was empty, and all she could think about was the terror she'd felt earlier in the day. Her breath started coming fast, her heart pounding against her chest so hard she felt a little lightheaded. She was also sweating, a full-blown panic attack taking over her body.

Jason put a hand on her leg, but she pushed it away. "Please keep your hands on the wheel," she said tersely .

"No problem," he said, quickly putting both hands on the wheel. "The intersection is right up ahead, and I'm slowing down."

She could feel the car slowing and that helped ease some of her anxiety. When they finally stopped at the light, and traffic was moving normally through the intersection, she took her first full breath. "How long will it take before I'll be able to go up and down that hill without a panic attack?"

"Probably longer than a few hours," he said, giving her a smile. "But you're a strong woman, Alisa. You'll get past it."

She gave him a bewildered look. "I don't know why you'd think I'm strong."

"You fought for your life against Kashin. You came back to the hospital the next day to take care of your mother. You jumped into action when you heard about the fire, and even after we took that crazy ride down the hill earlier, you went straight back to the hospital to make sure your mother was all right. Through it all, I haven't seen a single tear."

"I've never been one to cry a lot. My nose gets red, and my eyes get puffy. I'm a really ugly crier."

Amusement ran through his gaze. "So, vanity is the reason you hold it all in?"

"Partly. Plus, my dad always told me crying was a waste of time. The best way to feel better was to come up with a plan of action against whatever or whoever was making me want to cry."

"Taking action is usually the best solution for any problem."

"Speaking of action, what else did you find out when you went to your office?"

"I'll fill you in when we get settled," he replied.

"Okay. I assume you went to my apartment. How did it look?"

"Perfectly normal. Nothing appeared out of place, as far as I could tell. I packed you a bag. I grabbed some clothes out of your closet and drawers. They should get you through a day or two. Hopefully, this will all be over soon. "

"Hopefully," she echoed as she sat back in her seat, feeling a little less anxious now that they were driving city streets.

She noticed Jason checking the rearview mirror every other block. She assumed he was making sure that no one was following them. He seemed to be very good at his job, and he was so different from anyone she knew. He was a man of action. He ran toward danger instead of away from it. In the last few days, she'd realized she only needed people in her life she could count on.

Not that she knew who she could count on anymore. Her mother, yes, but she was sick. Her father was a big question mark. But Jason was solid. And if she had to go into hiding with anyone, she was really glad it was him.

About twenty minutes later, he drove down a residential street near the Santa Monica beach, eventually pulling into the driveway of a duplex. He used a remote to open the garage and then pulled the car inside. Once the garage door had closed, he got out and walked to the back of the car to open the trunk. She got out of the vehicle and waited for him as he retrieved her small suitcase. When he reached the door leading into the house, he put in a code and opened the door.

They stepped into a mudroom that led past a laundry and into a kitchen. The townhouse was very nice, she thought with surprise. Everything was clean, modern, and beautifully furnished. It was a two-story unit with a living room, dining room, kitchen, half-bath, and study downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. She wandered through the house with Jason. She would have taken the smaller bedroom, but he put her suitcase in the primary bedroom with an attached bath.

When they went back downstairs, they moved into the study, where there were several monitors revealing camera angles from around the townhouse. After Jason checked the cameras, he put a code into a door at the far end of the room and opened it, revealing what she thought could be classified as a panic room. The door leading into it was fortified with steel. There were more monitors, as well as an array of weapons in a glass case. There was also a refrigerator stocked with water and other emergency supplies.

As he told her about the safeguards in place, which included a tunnel that led to a park a half mile away and could be accessed through the flooring in the panic room, she felt her tension increase as she became very aware again of the fact that someone wanted to kill her.

"I—I have to get out of here," she said, running out of the panic room and the study and into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. Then she took a long drink.

Jason came into the room and gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I thought the safety measures would make you feel protected."

"They just reminded me that someone wants me dead."

"Well, it's not going to happen here."

"I wish you would have said it's not going to happen at all."

"Sorry," he said with a shrug.

She looked around the well-stocked and beautifully designed kitchen. "This is a nice home for a safe house, isn't it? I thought we'd be in a motel room or a small apartment."

"My boss, Flynn MacKenzie, owns this unit. His second-in-command, Beck Murray, has the one next door. They both lived here when they first started the special task force that I'm now on. They were single then. Now they're both married and live elsewhere, but they kept these units to be used as needed for safe houses."

"So you're on a special task force?" she asked. "What does that mean?"

"Normally, I work for the LA field office, but we needed the circle on this case to be tight, so I'm temporarily assigned to this smaller, more agile unit."

She slid onto a stool at the island. After a moment, Jason sat down across from her .

"We could go into the living room where it's more comfortable," he suggested.

"I'm okay here."

"Are you hungry?" he asked, then frowned. "Damn. I left the cookies at my office."

"It's fine. I don't want anything. This water is fine."

"Are you sure you don't want something stronger? There's wine and a full bar in the dining room. Whiskey, bourbon, tequila…"

"I need to keep a clear head." She took another sip of her water. "Why did the circle have to be small on this case?"

His lips tightened. "Before the courthouse explosion, we were close to catching Novikov. But someone in the FBI tipped him off. That's how my father and partner ended up walking into an ambush. I got to the scene about five minutes too late."

"Did you find your father?" she asked in horror.

"Yes."

"I can't imagine."

"It was the worst day of my life," he said darkly. "I knew my dad was gone the second I saw him. Luckily, Stephanie survived. I was waiting for an ambulance with her when the courthouse blew up. We were so close to stopping Novikov…" He shook his head, pain etched in every line of his face.

"I'm so sorry, Jason."

"That's why I'm working with a different team now. I can't change what happened, but I can stop Novikov from putting more people through hell."

She could understand why he was so motivated to capture the man. He carried a heavy personal loss. "I wish I could help you make the connection between my family and this Novikov person. I don't see one, but there's obviously something I'm missing. Do you have any idea what he's planning to do? Is it going to be another bomb, like the one at the courthouse?"

"Possibly. There are, unfortunately, too many possibilities. Several large events are taking place next week that could be targeted. We're focused on three of them, but we need to narrow it down, or better yet, catch Novikov before then."

"Next week is like three days away."

"Exactly. And whatever he is planning will be big and deadly. That much, I know."

Her stomach churned. "What on earth could this man want with me?" she asked in bemusement.

"He has to be connected to your father."

She shook her head. "Just because my dad isn't here doesn't mean he's working with a terrorist."

"Hang on a second."

She frowned when he left the room. He came back a moment later with a laptop computer and set it on the island. "What are you doing?"

"I'm pulling up my email. The devices in this house go through an encrypted server. I want to show you something." He hit a few more keys, then turned the computer around to face her.

It took her a second to realize she was looking at a video taken across the street from her parents' house.

"This is footage from a doorbell camera on your parents' block."

"When was this taken?"

"A few hours before the fire started. Do you recognize the man coming out of the house with suitcases?"

With each passing frame, unease churned in her stomach, tightening into a knot.

"Alisa," Jason said, forcing her gaze to meet his. "Who is that man?"

"That's my father." She took a deep breath as anxiety ran through her. "I think I'm going to need a drink."