Torn Loyalties Read online

  “I am, sir.” Silently he prayed no questions came that required him to disclose Madison’s jaunt into the Nest’s perimeter woods last night.

  Dayton, lean and compact with thick muscles, stood up. “Need I remind you that every single individual in that agency is, shall we say, disenchanted with the military?”

  “No, sir. I haven’t forgotten,” Grant said. “They are disenchanted—for just cause.”

  “In your opinion.” Talbot’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t that send up a red flag in your mind that any of them could have breached security, and leaked word of the Nest to the media? Or maybe even to Crawford?”

  “Yes, sir. But after a thorough investigation, in my opinion, none did. There’s no connection between any of them and Crawford, or to the Nest, beyond their assignments to it during their active-duty days. Crawford, working for Homeland Security, had direct access. He didn’t require a leak to know about the Nest. He was briefed on it regularly and personally visited the facility a dozen times.”

  Worry creased the commander’s skin between his eyebrows. “What if I told you that Crawford’s access was even more restricted than your own?”

  “That changes nothing, sir. He’s proven resourceful in the killings we’ve verified he’s done. I’ve no doubt he could be equally resourceful in gaining access to restricted areas, particularly from the inside.” Grant didn’t want a long conversation diversion into Gary Crawford. He’d claimed responsibility for the security breach and for the murders. That was that. “I’m convinced that Madison and her staff are innocent, sir.”

  “Including Renée Renault?”

  Grant nodded at the commander.

  His eyes narrowed, curious not accusing. “Why?”

  Talbot was a widower, and he’d been in love with Mrs. Renault since her husband had died. As far as anyone knew, though, it was one-sided and unspoken. Still, Talbot knew her nature well. This was more Talbot testing Grant’s judgment. “Actually, Mrs. Renault weighs heavily in my assessment. She would never work for anyone who would cross this country. And Madison is just like Mrs. Renault about that.” Grant cleared his throat. “They’re patriots, sir. If either of them felt someone at the agency had jeopardized national security, they’d be the first to knock on your door.”

  That clearly pleased the commander.

  It didn’t impress Dayton. He stepped closer and stared up into Grant’s face. “You realize you’re staking your life on that assessment, Major.”

  Grant lowered his eyes to look at the man. At about five-nine, Dayton had to tilt back his head to meet Grant’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s enough for me.” The commander signaled Grant could depart.

  “So I can consider the assignment closed?”

  “No.” The commander glanced at Dayton, then back at Grant. “I think it’s best if you stay put for now.”

  Disappointment hit Grant hard. He was going to lose Madison before he could even win her over. Probably just as well. With secrets and lies between them that he couldn’t disclose and resolve, well, losing her now was probably easier on his heart than losing her later. But, man, he wished he didn’t have to lose her at all. “Yes, sir.” Grant saluted.

  “Dismissed,” the commander said, then as Grant reached the door, he added, “Major, I’m sure your investigation is thorough, but do keep your eyes and ears open anyway.” He laced his hands atop his desk. “I am aware of the awkwardness of your current position, but it is necessary.”

  Was it? At first, maybe. But now that he’d reported his findings? Grant didn’t see the rationale. Not one valid reason he had to remain at the agency, spying on Madison or her entire staff. But there was something in Talbot’s eyes. Something Grant couldn’t decipher or quite grasp...yet. “Yes, sir.”

  Grant took the stairs, too irritated to wait for the elevator. Downstairs, he cleared security, and then departed the building. He had prayed hard, hoping to end this deception today. But Talbot’s refusal to end the assignment proved his prayers had been denied. Decisively.

  Indefinitely.

  Talbot’s word speared through Grant but it was Dayton’s suspicions, the odd look in his eyes when they spoke about Crawford, that most worried Grant. Was that because something was there? Or because Madison had planted doubts in his mind about Crawford being silenced before he could recant his confessions and her relating that to Talbot and Dayton?

  Unsure, Grant pulled his keys from his pocket, and made his way across the parking lot.

  Indefinitely.

  Infiltrating Lost, Inc., had made sense—at one point. But why keep a plant in place on a closed case where everyone had been cleared? That didn’t make sense...unless Talbot or Dayton doubted Crawford’s guilt. But why would they? And why not just tell Grant they had doubts? He was Talbot’s hand-chosen investigator, after all.

  Grant paused to let a blue truck pass between the rows of parked cars. What had happened in there made no sense, neither their orders nor their conduct. Talbot’s warning to Grant to keep his eyes and ears open...that look in his eye. Was it a warning, too? And the way Talbot had looked at Dayton. What was that all about? The truck passed and Grant walked on. Halfway to his car, he stopped dead in his tracks between a black sedan and a white SUV. His stomach clenched. There was one situation where their orders and conduct made perfect sense.

  If Madison was right.

  But she couldn’t be right. Talbot and Dayton involved in two murders? That was insane.

  Wasn’t it?

  Unsure, Grant got into his Jeep and headed off the base. As soon as he cleared the gate, he dialed Madison.

  She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Grant.”

  He’d never heard Madison McKay sound so...open. Unguarded even. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing at all. Why? Where are you?”

  Not quite sure about this shift in her, he reserved judgment. “On my way back to the office. Are you there, or at home?”

  “Actually, I just picked up my dress for the ball tonight—it’s totally gorgeous—and now I’m heading home for a nap so I don’t wear a gorgeous gown with dark bags under my eyes.”

  Gearing up for the ball, or for more surveillance after it? “I’ve been thinking about our talk this morning and what you said about Crawford.”

  “And?”

  “It makes sense. Even if he killed Beth Crane, why would he wait so long to take out Pace?”

  “Pace wasn’t a threat until later,” she told Grant. “After Beth was killed, Brett Lund, the WKME station manager, dropped the assignment. He didn’t pick it up again for three years.”

  “When he assigned the story to Pace.”

  “That’s right. Until then, Pace didn’t know a thing about any of it.”

  Grant pulled into a drive-through Starbucks and ordered coffee, then asked, “Why did Lund wait? Why would he sit on a huge story for three years?”

  “Don’t I wish I knew? Lund died before answering that question, but I’ve thought about it, and the only thing that stands up to scrutiny is that after Beth was killed, Lund was scared stiff. He had a wife and two kids, you know.”

  “That only works if Lund connected Beth Crane’s murder to her inquiries about the Nest. He’d have had to know she wasn’t killed in a home invasion like everyone believed until Crawford confessed.” Beth’s husband, Ian Crane, had been a doctor. Everyone in North Bay knew it. But anyone who knew Ian Crane knew he didn’t keep so much as an aspirin at home to protect Beth. So the police had deduced Beth’s murder had been by a random stranger—until Crawford confessed.

  “Lund made the connection between Beth and Talbot and/or Dayton and the Nest. He admitted as much to Ian.” Blaming himself for Beth’s death, Ian had stopped practicing medicine to hire on with Madison and devote himself to finding Beth’s kill
er. He and Madison’s best friend, Maggie Mason, had worked together and gone through struggles of their own, but this past Christmas, they had worked through them and fallen in love. What an adventure that had been, going up against serial killer Gary Crawford!

  “When did Lund admit the connection?”

  “Right before he shot himself.” Madison sighed. “They talked in his office. He admitted to Ian and Maggie that he knew Beth had been murdered and he feared for his family so he’d kept his mouth shut. When nothing happened to him and three years passed, Lund thought it was safe to check out the case, so he pulled the records and assigned David Pace.”

  “So then, like Beth, Pace goes to the commander for confirmation on the Nest, and shortly thereafter, he’s killed.”

  “Right,” Madison said. “Minutes after Ian left the meeting, Lund got a phone call—the records have been scrubbed so we don’t know from whom—and then shot himself.”

  He’d made the connection, all right, and he’d sacrificed David Pace for the story. And that’s why Madison was so invested in this case. “Pace didn’t know about Beth, did he?”

  “According to his wife, no.”

  “And what happened to his records on the case?”

  “Detective Cray took a look at them. He saw nothing to indicate Pace knew Beth even existed.”

  This must have nearly knocked Ian to his knees. He’d looked for his wife’s murderer for three years, and then to discover this? Poor guy.

  “Grant? Did you hear me?”

  “What? Sorry. I was thinking about how hard learning this had to have been on Ian.”

  “Very.”

  Neither he nor Maggie had said much about Crawford or the security breach, for that matter. “What did you say that I missed?”

  “I said,” Madison repeated, “something seems different. What’s happened to you?”

  No way could he answer that question. He wished he could tell her the truth, but he didn’t have that luxury. All he could do was play dumb and stick as close to the truth as possible. But inside the battle raged between truth and lies, right and wrong, his head and heart, and betrayal and loyalty. He could follow the dictates of his faith, be loyal to his country, or be loyal to her. He couldn’t be all three, and that grated at him on so many levels it’d take a lifetime to list them all. And he feared she’d hate him forever for deceiving her. “What do you mean?”

  “You sound almost as if you’re hearing what I’m saying for the first time.”

  He grunted. Maybe he was. His perspective had changed. He was now entertaining the possibility she could be right.

  “Are you coming around to my way of thinking?”

  “I’m keeping an open mind.” The woman was astute. He’d be foolish to forget it. “Take a nap. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Sorry. I won’t be here.”

  Surprise rippled up his back. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What?”

  “I have a date.”

  “I know. It’s with me.”

  “I don’t think so. My date is with the man who sent me chocolates, a white stuffed teddy bear and a lovely card asking me to be his valentine.”

  “It arrived.”

  A lilt in her voice turned even more playful. “Oh, was that from you?”

  “You know it was.”

  “Well, it all arrived just before I left the office to pick up my dress, but I couldn’t tell who sent it because the card, while lovely, wasn’t signed.”

  He’d agonized over how to sign it. Gone back and forth in his head and had nearly driven himself over the edge. Finally he’d just written her name on the envelope and at the top of the card and left it unsigned. He sipped at his coffee. “I was being mysterious to charm you.”

  “Well, you succeeded.” A smile sounded in her voice. “I guess my date is with you, then. See you at eight—but meet me at the club. We have a little issue with the florist to resolve, so I need to be there early.”

  After ending the call, he set the phone down on the console and wondered what had gotten into her. Madison? Being playful? With him?

  He liked her playful. He liked her regardless, but playful was...captivating.

  Maybe he should keep her sleep deprived....

  It could be his one shot to not lose her.

  THREE

  She took his breath away.

  Madison’s hair was up off her neck, but loose silver-blond strands fluttered around her face. He liked that. Her makeup was light—it was always light, except when she’d smeared her face with camo paint. Her dress was classic and vintage Madison: simple, elegant and a soft pastel that hinted at blue. The woman was a knockout.

  What she saw in him, Grant couldn’t imagine. But the tremor in her voice when in the car he’d talked about walking away from her told him he did matter. Maybe more than she realized.

  That was good and bad. It ignited hope and despair in him, and probably in her, too. Why couldn’t things between them be different? Personally, he wanted her to care. More than he dared admit to anyone but himself. This relationship had started out as an assignment, but one look at her had changed everything. They’d eased into dating, sharing meals after work, handling a bit of business on the weekend and letting it fold over into doing something fun together. Then before Christmas she’d started talking about the group cruise, and instead of her trip it became their trip.

  He thought back, seeking a specific moment when they’d officially become a couple, or even started dating, but couldn’t pinpoint one. Starting out, he’d sought every opportunity to be with her to spy on her—and she’d done the same thing with him. But now it seemed clear that spying had just given them permission to be together, which was what they both wanted anyway. At least, that’s how their relationship had developed for him, and he believed it had for her, as well. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for her had gotten personal. But he remembered vividly the instant he’d realized it.

  They’d been on the cruise, caught in a hurricane, and Maggie Mason had been in trouble and needed Madison. She’d done everything humanly possible to get off that ship and get home to her friend. And watching her efforts, it hit him hard that he wanted her to care that much about him. To want to move mountains to get to him because he needed her. And in that same instant he knew he did care about her that much, and if she needed him, he would move mountains to get to her.

  Seconds later it hit just as hard that if Madison knew the truth she would feel as betrayed by him as she’d been by her superiors. That had thrown him into the tailspin of his life.

  Sometimes even a man of faith had no choice. He didn’t want to deceive her and would give his right arm to not do it, but he was powerless. A direct order was a direct order, and an oath was an oath. When he made a vow, he kept it. He was either a man of honor or he wasn’t. He prayed hard and often and made every effort to do the right thing on all sides, though he’d be shocked if Madison saw it that way. The one woman who knocked him to his knees would walk out of his life for good.

  Their relationship and situation was that simple and that complex, as Madison liked to say.

  Still, standing in the club’s ballroom looking at her, laughing with Paul Mason and his new wife, Della, and chatting with Paul’s sister Maggie and her soon-to-be husband, Ian Crane, the widower of Beth Crane, Madison looked happy. Content. At peace with her world.

  She wasn’t, and until she made her peace with her past, she wouldn’t be. She was a woman of faith, but right now that faith was hampered by her bitterness at being sacrificed. When she said her superiors had sacrificed her, she meant her military superiors had betrayed her, but she also meant she felt betrayed by God for not sparing her when taken POW. It had taken Grant a while to figure that out.

  In his curled palm he roll
ed over the last of the gifts he’d gotten her for Valentine’s Day: a stone. Hopefully, sometime tonight he’d feel that his heart was in the right place to give it to her. If not, he’d hang on to it and pray hard a right time came. But first he had to get his breath back.

  She caught sight of him and smiled.

  And left him breathless all over again.

  * * *

  The ballroom at North Bay Country Club had been transformed into a romantic wonderland, filled with red roses, little twinkling lights and tall columns that stretched ceiling to floor framing the stage and dance floor. Madison glanced from strategically placed foliage to draped lengths of fabric that formed areas for couples to chat.

  Spotting Grant, she stopped speaking midsentence, unprepared for the impact of seeing him in his mess dress.

  “I do believe you’re speechless.”

  Maggie’s amused remark jerked Madison down out of the clouds. “I am not. But he sure cleans up nice.” In street clothes, Grant always had women take a second look, but in his mess dress they stopped, stared and even gawked.

  “Sure does.” Maggie chuckled. “This looks good on you.”

  “Oh, you like the dress? I found it at—”

  “Not the dress, though it’s pretty. Love.”

  Madison broke gazes with Grant, and glared at her lifelong friend. “Love? Are you crazy?”

  Maggie hiked her chin. “Okay, then.”

  “It’s not love,” Madison insisted, feeling her face heat. “I—I just like him.”

  “Liking is good.” Maggie slid Ian a glance he missed. “Love’s better.”

  Madison shot her another you’ve-lost-your-mind glare, then walked over to Grant.

  He slowly perused her. “Nice dress.”

  “Thanks.” The band on the stage started playing a waltz.

  “May I have this dance?” His eyes twinkled.

  Her gran had told her a thousand times. When it comes to men, hon, their eyes are windows straight to their souls. And Grant’s gaze spoke volumes about his feelings for her. Suddenly shy, something she’d never been in her life, Madison remembered her promise to take a leap of faith. Just until he does anything to cross me. She stepped into Grant’s arms and into trust.