Page 49 of Nothing to Fear

“My dad has always been there for me, no matter how difficult it was at times.” Her tone softened, but pain packed her voice with enough power to grip him by the jugular.

Rubbing her arms, she paced in the kitchen.

“He’s never let me down. He’s taken on ignorant parents, battled principals who wanted to stick me in classes where the IQ was 75 instead of 145. Had a public showdown with the president of Bettie’s Brownies because they said I wasn’t the right fit. Took out a second mortgage on that house so I graduated college without debt. He’s all I have. Don’t you dare tell me he’s not worth the risk!”

Gideon went to put a gentle hand on her shoulder to stop her from prowling in circles, but their eyes locked, pinning him in place.

“Have you ever felt that way about anyone?” Her voice was a whisper of cool steel.

His father had run off when Gideon was too young to remember him. His mother had been so desperate for the affection of any man—even alcoholics and druggies who’d preferred to communicate with fists—that he’d endured bruises, broken bones, and countless sleepless nights with pain as his best friend.

The only person in the world he’d ever truly had, who’d never let him down, was himself.

“Then how could you possibly understand?” she asked in the wake of his silence.

He couldn’t. Might never.

When he buried Kelli, he’d laid to rest hope for something more. Some people were meant to have love and kids and puppies. Happily-ever-after shit.

He was meant to be hard, detached. To clean up the trash, eliminate threats, do whatever dirty work was necessary to make the world a better, safer place. Even if he’d never enjoy the luxury of the happiness he safeguarded.

“I know your father wants you to stay alive.” He curled his fingers around her arms and drew her close, hoping she’d soften at the nearness. “Not risk getting hurt to see him when he’s laid up in a coma.”

Her body stayed taut, muscles tense. “I can’t abandon him.”

Smoothing her hair from her face, he stared into her glassy eyes, longing to make this all better. One step at a time. He might, if she let him. But first they had to clear her name.

“Uh, guys.” Ken stared at the four monitors mounted on the wall. “We’ve got company.”

The red beacon light flashed above the door.

“Cops?” Gideon asked, turning toward him.

“Oh no.” Ken’s voice dropped, and his body went rigid. “Mariko…” Raking both hands through his hair, he straightened. “Not cops.”

Gideon went to look at the screen. “How many?”

“Four. Five. Maybe.”

“Where are they?” Gideon peered over Ken’s shoulder at the monitors.

“Everywhere.”

21

Springfield, Virginia

Friday, July 5, 3:02 p.m. EDT

Gideon glanced at the screens. Three dead bodies in the doughnut shop. A customer, the teenage kid who worked there and…Mariko. His heart sank, but he couldn’t afford to feel.

There’d been no sound of gunfire. Silencers.

Two men wearing serious tactical gear and armed with assault weapons, black balaclavas covering their faces, circled the back and side of the building. A hulking bruiser sized up the heavy metal door of the apartment, which swung out to prevent forced entry with a battering ram.

Another two nosed around on the roof.

They moved in controlled, coordinated bursts. Vigilant surveillance of their six. Highly skilled. Technical. Even the way they held their weapons pointed to paramilitary training. They were either no-bullshit operators from a special black ops unit or had come from one and served anyone willing to pay enough. Mercs.