“On my sixteenth birthday, Mom, Dad, Tommy, and I went to New York City. The weather and the things we did were incredible. We acted like kids — so much fun. We skipped through the Metropolitan and MOMA. We were making so much noise, we got shushed by the docents. That evening, we sawPhantomand had a late meal at Sardis. They even had a special cake for me. Mom and Dad arranged to fly us home in a helicopter because Dad had to be back for a meeting early in the morning.” Cassie picked at her food. “It crashed right after we took off. I lived. No one else did.” Her voice became flat.
Ian reached for her hand again. “Cassie, I’m so sorry.”
She forced back tears. “Bad stuff happens sometimes. When I woke up in the hospital, Uncle Luke was sitting next to me. Christian flew in. I guess he was about twenty-six. Caleb followed. He was somewhere.”
“We were at Bagram.”
She gulped. “I never put that together. You were Caleb's platoon leader. Noah had started basic training. Sean and Frank were still in high school, and Aunt Rachel stayed in Georgetown with them. For an orphan, I was lucky. I had new loving parents and five overprotective, alpha male brothers.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
Cassie forced out a wistful breath. “Christian, Caleb, and Uncle Luke brought me home. Everyone pitched in, and with therapy, things came together. It was easier because Aunt Rachel and Uncle Luke were always like second parents. I knew them, and they knew me.” A tiny, sorrowful whimper fell from her lips. Ian squeezed her hand.
“GW undergrad and master’s—and Maryland for my doctorate.” Cassie pulled her hands from his and rubbed her hands on her thigh, soon curling them into fists, digging her nails into her palms. Her descriptions grew clipped. “I woke up one morning, and things were different. I went out and stayed with Christian for a while—for a change of scenery.” She focused on a spot over Ian’s shoulder.
* * *
Ian watched her face.She’s good at hiding her emotions.
“Coronado is beautiful. Christian has great friends, but some of them had issues after they came back. Service changed them—some were so damaged.” He saw touches of her passion as she spoke.
“I know there is a psych requirement for when Special Ops guys come back, but we both know you can control the session. And most don’t open up. It seemed to me they feared letting people see them be real. War is ugly.”
Ian swallowed hard. The beautiful woman across from him understood so much.
“I started channeling my mother, I guess. Christian helped me realize I could make a difference. I made a plan, made some contacts, did my research, looked for office space, found property, hired the best and the brightest, and started Tommy’s House. I understood how fear and stigma affected their lives.”
What are you afraid of?Ian noted the omission of her former fiancé, Garett Whitman.
“Excuse me, Ian.” Cassie headed to the restroom.
When she returned, Ian noticed a tinge of mascara on her cheek. “Sweetheart, I hope you know how much good work Tommy’s House does. We’re all honored by your efforts.”
“Thank you. I should take the opportunity to thank you for the Chase Ventures donation.”
“Duly noted.” Ian smiled again at the stunning, complicated woman in front of him.
Cassie scrunched up her napkin. “Anyway, while I was out there, Uncle Luke asked for some help on a case. I learned Uncle Luke’s favors carry large price tags. The next thing I knew, I was at Quantico.”
“Ha-ha. I know your uncle’s favors well.”
“The Bureau uses my expertise for their benefit. I’m in the Art and Cultural Property Crime Division. It’s crazy. This year alone, we recovered about fifty million dollars in stolen art. Art is another currency of trafficking and terrorism. We found a Vermeer. Did you know Hitler liked his works?
“We were able to trace it to a family now living in Florida. The Nazis took the painting and her family when Anna Rabin was eight. She’s now eighty. The look on her face when my partner, Steve Naughton, and I returned the painting to her.” Cassie glowed. She was, in this instance, the woman he remembered from the National Gallery.
“I work for a great boss, Paul Yates. This thing with Wilds is temporary.” Cassie shrugged and did not add more. Ian knew enough about Wilds not to like the arrangement. Greg Wilds used his uniform to his advantage during his enlisted days, and now Ian suspected he used his FBI rank for the same. If he wanted something, he took it.
A dessert of apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream and caramel shared between them sweetened the evening. Conversation lightened with easy, contented discussions about art, books, television, world politics, religion, and pets. “Animals love me,” Ian declared.
“Knight did. I can’t believe he brought you my ID and gun.” Her green eyes beamed in the soft lighting on the table.
“When Caleb comes home on leave, I need to speak with that boy,” Ian said while helping her from her seat.
“You don’t have to. I don’t want to sic my five protectors—seven if you count Aunt Rachel and Uncle Luke—on you.”
Was she afraid to tell her family about their meal together? Ian wanted to protect her too. He was developing an emotional attraction to her. In the short evening together, she managed to steal a piece of his heart.
Leaving the restaurant, Ian wrapped a protective arm around her, but Cassie slipped from his grasp. “Don’t worry about me. I have handled a SEAL or two in my time, but Aunt Rachel may be a difficult mission. And if she hooks up with Lil, I’m doomed.”
Cassie wrinkled her nose again and laughed.
