Chapter Twelve
Will Asher sat at his desk, his hands hanging limp over the arms of his chair. He felt defeated, deflated. The mission had essentially been a success. They’d apprehended Claire Davenport before she’d confronted Congressman Hale. Claire was safe. Hale was dead. The flash drive was in hand and headed back to Chicago for Finn to decrypt. And Jack and Maddie got out of it with their lives.
But there’d been collateral damage.
Will closed his eyes on a heavy sigh. Innocent blood had been spilled. Again. And for what purpose? To make a statement? That’s what it appeared. A little research on the bomber revealed he was most likely one of the Faithful that Jacob Stone was so fond of dispensing as needed to do his dirty work.
But, far more disturbing, it hadn’t been Stone spotted in the security footage Finn had obtained after the bombing. It was the Russian assassin—Kozlov. The same man who’d delivered the car bomb meant for Jack and Maddie that instead ended the life of a young man with a promising future. The kid had been working his way through college, supporting his mother, and a younger sister with medical issues and special needs.
Will reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to squeeze away the headache that was beginning to build behind his eyes.
The Alliance would take care of Manny’s family, ensure that his mother and sister wanted for nothing for the rest of their lives. It was the least they could do. They sure as hell couldn’t give Mrs. Velázquez her son back.
Will tried to keep at bay the memories of having to call his own mother to tell her the news that she’d lost a son. Will’s older brother—a doctor, changing the world for the better in his own way, irrespective of the Alliance—had been brutally murdered, along with his wife and children. He could still hear his mother’s screams, her sobs of grief. First her husband, then her favorite son. Her heart was broken beyond repair. And two years later, her damaged heart finally gave out and death claimed her as well.
A quiet knock on his office door brought his head up. “Enter.”
Adam Watanabe came in as commanded and stood at attention on the opposite side of Will’s desk. “Jack and Maddie will be arriving within the hour. We’ll take a car to pick them up.”
Will nodded. “And Claire?”
Adam’s chin dipped slightly, something like sympathy passing over his normally impossible-to-read face. “She is in the care of our colleague.”
“It’s for the best,” Will murmured. It was supposed to be a statement, but when the words came out, they almost sounded like a question.
Adam didn’t respond.
His silence drew Will’s gaze. “Do you think I should’ve handled things differently with her?”
Adam’s brows lifted slightly as if he was surprised that Will sought his opinion. He seemed to consider the question for a moment before answering. “I think you’ve done what you thought was in her best interest. However, I’m not so sure it’s in yours.”
Will drew back a little at the assessment. “You barely know me, Watanabe.”
Adam dipped his head, conceding the point. “True. But I don’t need to know you well to see that your past torments you. There are ghosts in your eyes, Commander.”
“We all have a past,” Will assured him. “I don’t know that there are any of us who have memories we wouldn’t like locked away in some cerebral vault. Claire was delirious during most of our time in Nigeria. Seeing me again might dredge up memories it’d be better to leave alone. I’ve been kinder to Claire than I’ve been to myself.”
“Hmm.”
Will frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Adam bowed slightly. “I mean no disrespect, Commander.”
Will motioned with his hand for Adam to continue. “Say what you have to say.”
Adam paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully. Finally, he said, “If you are being so kind to Ms. Davenport, why do you punish yourself? The story I have heard is that you rescued her from the Boko Haram. If I may ask—what is the rest of the story? What did you do that you fear she will remember? What has persuaded you to cower here at headquarters in order to assuage your own guilt instead of facing the woman you insist upon protecting from afar?”
Will leaned back in his chair, stunned by the man’s perceptiveness. Even Jack hadn’t heard the entire story. He knew more than anyone about what had happened in Nigeria. But there was one crucial piece of information that Will had kept to himself.
“It was my fault she was captured in the first place,” Will said, his voice coming out as a harsh rasp now that he was putting it into words. “I fucked up. And she paid the price. I swore that I’d never again let anything happen to her.”
“Hmm.”
“What now?” Will snapped.
“It’s just that you made a foolish promise,” Adam mused. “You cannot possibly keep it.”
With that, Adam bowed and strode from the room, shutting the door behind him.
