The mission was well rehearsed with days of preparation. Every man and woman on the team had a specific task to perform. On Ian’s mark, the plan went off with military precision.
Ian joined the two FBI agents assigned to Cassie’s protective detail. “Coffee?” he offered two cups of the gourmet drink. Both men accepted without any incentive after drinking the hospital swill.
Outside the entrance, two SUVs, each carrying four men, bookended two ambulances. A third SUV driven by Jason and transporting Ian, Kieran, and Martin followed at a discreet distance.
Ian observed as Cassie was unloaded from the ambulance and settled her into her temporary home. Once he was confident things were under control, he walked the slate path to the main house.
Ellen, besides being a cook and house manager, acted as mother hen and left a plate of food for him to warm up. Not hungry, Ian walked into the den. The May day was damp and cold, but a warm fire burned in the fireplace, its orange glow reflecting off imposing mahogany bookcases. A set of cherry brown leather chairs sat parallel to a matching couch, and a small mahogany and brass bar occupied a corner. Ian poured two fingers of single malt scotch and tossed it back, feeling the burn all the way to his empty gut. He poured another and belted that one down as well.
Pouring one more scotch for himself, Ian turned to his brother, who was sitting in a chair. “Want one?”
Kieran shook his head. “A little early for a drink.” Ian dropped into a chair. “Or should I say three?”
Since that fateful day at the beach, neither man ever had more than one drink in a day. Ian sipped the caustic fluid and did not respond.
“Hunt says she did well during the move. What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you act like this—not even after Olivia called it quits. You’re wound tighter than a guitar string.”
Ian rested the glass on his knee and watched the dancing tangerine flames. “I’ve never experienced this. I care for her.”
After Olivia, a woman he thought he loved and wanted to marry, left him, he made a hard division between his emotions and his physical needs. Cassie was different.
“Kier, I know this sounds insane, but I’m falling in love with her. Hell, Iamin love with her. I felt a connection the first moment I saw her.”
Kieran sat across from him. “When was that?”
“At the National Gallery, the Mellon 21 fundraiser six years ago. She was the woman who showed me the Titian.
“She had me then. There was this…” Ian couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t do anything about it at the time. She wore a ring. Then at Luke’s, turning in the Breckenridge file, she was there. No ring.” He twisted the glass in his hand. “We grabbed a bite. We connected. Then, well, you saw the e-mail. She ran. I sent her flowers Wednesday morning and was going to call her Thursday to invite her to lunch.”
He placed the drink on a coaster and started to pace. “I never expected to see her at the fundraiser. Kier, she took my breath away. She was exquisite. I knew she was working. I could see the strain she was under. Then she was with Whitman Sr. on the dance floor. I know I shouldn’t have, but I cut in. As we danced, everything faded away. I don’t know how to describe it better. I feel complete with her in my arms.
“There was such vulnerability in those emerald eyes. At first, she agreed to talk about going to lunch. I couldn’t stop myself. Damn, I pushed her, and she ran again. Told me chances and wishes are fairytales.
“In the bathroom, she was struggling so hard to breathe. Those tiny fingers, cut and bleeding, grabbed my hand, and she apologized. Told me she wanted her chance.” Ian stared at his feet. “Kieran, I screwed up. I ignored the danger signals.”
Kieran thought a moment before he responded, “Break it down. If Cassie wasn’t stabbed, would you feel this way about her?”
“I felt it when I saw her at Luke and Rachel’s and then a brief kiss in the car. I was gone. The answer is yes.”
“At the dinner, were you armed?” the pragmatic Kieran asked.
“No, but you know that doesn’t matter.”
“Were you working?”
“Damn it. You know I wasn’t.”
“We’ve spent twelve days with her family. I think you can figure out where I’m going. You didn’t interfere with the gun call. Why would you interfere with Ames? You know what she would say. Ian, you are not responsible for her being stabbed.”
“I couldn’t keep her safe in the hospital either.” He ran his hands through his hair.
“I wish it wasn’t so hard for you. Everything I’ve heard about Cassie is terrific. You and I spent time with Sophie and Rachel. You can tell they’re in your corner. There’s a story, but neither one is ready to share.
“My advice is to ditch the guilt and stay the course. None of us know what tomorrow will bring for Cassie. I think we have a lead on one of the cops from the 911 call. The Ames family is still in Kentucky for the burial. The hospital cameras showed nothing valuable at the time Cassie was poisoned, but seven other patients died in the same timeframe. We’re checking to see if any of them died from potassium overdoses. The blue newborn’s cap had no trace on it. I don’t even know where to start looking for a baby. We need her family’s cooperation. Give it time.”
He’d heard enough. Kieran was right, but Ian’s anger was bubbling up inside him. He couldn’t control the situation, and it infuriated him. His brother’s efforts to relax him only revved him up further.
He exploded, “Get out!”
