Heavy Artillery Husband. Debra & Regan Webb & Black

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      “Thank you for listening and letting me ramble on about it.”

      “If you want my professional assessment, I’ll say your instincts haven’t been compromised in the slightest,” Victoria declared in her trademark steely tone. “Paul took advantage while you were distracted by grief, that’s all. Whatever Frank didn’t tell you about his career or his personal problems, he loved you and Frankie above all else. He must have been protecting you.”

      “He loved Frankie.” During those last two years, Sophia had lost her faith that her husband loved her with equal devotion. He’d grown distant and secretive. She’d tried and failed to chalk it up to his protective nature.

      Victoria consulted her watch. “One more minute for self-pity and then I’m ordering an outrageous dessert for all of us to share.”

      Lucas pretended to protest, shifting his chair close enough to drape an arm across the back of Victoria’s.

      They looked utterly content as a couple, as a team. Sophia had had that once, for nearly the entirety of her thirty-year marriage. However, that period of her life had ended, and she needed to focus on the good times, to let the uncertainty go.

      “I don’t need even one more minute.” Sophia reached into her purse for her cell phone. “Let me show you some pictures of far more important things.”

      She brought up a slide show and together the three of them admired the options Frankie would eventually sort out, from bouquets and centerpieces to tuxedo tails and cake flavors. “We’ve already decided to surprise Aidan with an old family recipe for the groom’s cake.”

      “This will be a dream day for all of you,” Victoria said with a wistful smile. “You must be so excited.”

      “We’re going to have so much fun with the planning. Both of them are huge assets to Leo Solutions. I have so much to look forward to.” Catching herself gushing, she paused for a breath. “I thought I’d lost that relationship with her forever. You returned it to me, Victoria. You and Aidan.” There weren’t enough thank-yous to adequately express her joy that her daughter was healthy, happy and thriving again. It truly was time to stop dwelling on the past and let go of the questions that would never have answers.

      Sophia insisted on paying for dinner, managing to win a lighthearted argument with Lucas over the check. As they parted ways at the restaurant door, a shopping date scheduled for tomorrow, she chose to walk rather than accept Victoria’s offer for a ride to the hotel. The crisp spring breeze drifting off the lake caught at her hair, boosting her mood as she headed down the street.

      Moments after Victoria’s car pulled away, she regretted her decision. Without the distraction of conversation, she felt eyes on her immediately. A chill raised the hair at the back of her neck and she called on her years of self-discipline not to show any recognition to her observer. She knew she would be safe enough as long as she was surrounded by other pedestrians.

      Though she hadn’t made a secret of her travel plans to Chicago, she couldn’t imagine who would bother watching her. Mind over matter, she thought as she put one foot in front of the other, shoulders back, head high, refusing to let her discomfort show.

      The tactic had served her well as a general’s wife, an analyst and a mother. Opponents large and small had cowered in the face of her poise and determination. Let whoever was out there watch. Let them see Sophia Leone hadn’t changed a bit as a widow or under the pressure of the events that followed.

      Poised or not, she felt a wave of relief wash over her when she entered the hotel lobby, interrupting that intense, uncomfortable scrutiny. She crossed to the front desk with a smile on her face. She might as well extend her reservation for an additional night. One day of shopping with Victoria might not be enough.

      “Ah, Ms. Leone, of course. And you have a message.”

      “I do?” Sophia was surprised. Frankie would have called her cell.

      The man behind the desk passed her a small envelope embossed with the hotel logo. Sophia noted the precise block lettering of her name on the outside. Memories whispered through her, making her shiver. Frank had preferred that style over his nearly illegible cursive handwriting. They’d often joked that he had the penmanship of a doctor. How rude of someone to try to irritate her by mimicking his habit. She caught herself in the middle of the overreaction. Printed lettering wasn’t a personal attack or automatic insult. She chalked up her edginess to having been watched so closely on her brief walk. Moving down the hall toward the elevators, she opened the envelope and pulled out the note.

      She quickly read it through. She grabbed at the nearest wall for support as her knees buckled. You and Frankie are in danger. Meet me at Parkhurst by nine. Prepare to run.

      It wasn’t signed, but the writing, the location told her it had to be from Frank. That was impossible. He was dead.

      Parkhurst, the US Army Reserve Center just off the old Route 66. She and Frank had been there once for a dining out, early in his career. They’d just learned she was pregnant. She remembered avoiding the wine but not the curious speculation of the other wives. She pressed a hand to her mouth to smother the whimper building in her throat. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be. She needed to get to her room. Needed to return to the desk and get a description of who had delivered the message.

      Her stomach tightened while she read the note again more slowly. The meaning didn’t register at all as her fingertip followed the bold swipe of the pen strokes making up each letter and word. Her body sighed with memories of those happier times.

      With an effort, she straightened her spine, tucked away the nostalgia and pulled herself together. Whoever had created this note had forged Frank’s handwriting perfectly. Sophia swallowed and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. Frank wasn’t the only person in the world to write this way. He wasn’t the only person who would choose a remote location for a discreet meeting. At the edge of the nature preserve surrounding the facility, there would be plenty of privacy at night.

      She walked back to the front desk, hoping she didn’t look as pale as she felt. When the clerk smiled, she held up the note. “Can you tell me who left this and when?”

      The young man on duty shook his head. “It was here when I came on an hour ago. Jenny only told me it was urgent, according to the man who left it.”

      “Man?”

      The desk clerk nodded.

      She pressed her lips together as potential images and thoughts collided like bumper cars in her head. “Could I access your security footage?”

      “Um, no? That kind of thing would have to be approved by our—”

      “It’s okay,” she said, cutting his protest short. What were the odds the person who’d written the missive had had the audacity to deliver it? Zero to none. She tapped the note against her palm. “Thank you for your time.”

      Shoulders back, she aimed for the elevator once more. Frank was dead. She’d seen him in that morgue. Dead men didn’t send notes inviting their widowed wives to meetings, advising them to run. Someone was attempting to put her off balance. She hitched her shoulders at the thought of being watched during her walk from the restaurant. Someone wanted to frighten her and lure her from the safety of the hotel.

      Defiant, she reached out and punched the call button for the elevator. When the car arrived, СКАЧАТЬ