He tapped the screen, then held out his phone.
“Mack, it’s Addy.” Her voice sounded from the speaker, but there was an underlying hesitancy in her tone. “I need a favor from the RED team—Cam especially—for an investigation I’m working. It’s a big one. One that means savings countless lives. Can you call me back ASAP to discuss? Thanks.”
She stared at the phone and swallowed hard. What in the world had she been working on? “Yeah, that’s my voice all right. But I don’t remember leaving the message. When did you say I called?”
He tapped the screen and leaned forward to hold it out, his peppermint breath drifting over her. The message was left at three o’clock yesterday.
She massaged her temples, making sure to avoid the big goose egg on her forehead. “Tell me more about this RED team. You said I was once on it?”
He nodded and shoved his phone into his pocket. “We work out of HSI’s Cyber Crimes Center in D.C. There are four of us on the team now. FBI agents Sean Nichols and Kiley Dawson and analyst Cameron—Cam—Linn. We work high-level and top-priority investigations for criminal activity conducted on or facilitated by the internet.”
“So big cases,” she said, taking it all in. “Like?”
“Like...” He paused and held her gaze. “You have the clearance to be read-in on these, but I know Eisenhower wouldn’t approve. Still...” He shrugged. “A couple of biggies we worked in the last few years are the WITSEC database being hacked and terrorists smuggled into the country who were planning to kill millions of people on the 9/11 anniversary.”
“Wow.” She was impressed. “And I willingly left the team?”
He cringed, and that sadness he’d kept at bay so far took over his expressive eyes. “I don’t know ifwillinglyis the word for it. But yeah. You decided it would be too hard to work together after we broke up. So, since your mom isn’t doing so well, you came out here to take care of her. After you left, our supervisor, Barry Eisenhower—he’s the ICE Special Agent in Charge of the Cyber Crimes Center—decided not to replace you. I think he was hoping we’d get back together and you’d rejoin the team.”
“Okay, so I’ll go along with the premise that we’re married for now,” she admitted reluctantly. “How long have we been separated?”
“Going on a year and a half.”
“And we didn’t divorce?”
He shook his head.
“Why’d we split up?”
He grimaced. “My fault, totally. I served as an Army Night Stalker for many years. Had some issues linger. PTSD. Thought I had everything under control. I thought I was trusting God. Turns out I didn’t, but I’m working on it.”
She didn’t like seeing his pain, but she was glad to hear he believed in God.
“I started having flashbacks and nightmares again.” He clasped his hands together so tightly his fingers turned white. “One night was particularly bad. I woke up with my hands around your throat. I thought you were an enemy combatant. The guy with a knife who took out two of my team.”
He met and held her gaze. “You were so amazing. You punched me in the face. Brought me out of it. Otherwise...” He shook his head and looked down. “I couldn’t let that happen again. We couldn’t be together. So I moved out.”
Wow! Just wow! How did she handle something like that? Had she really punched him? Did she want to get away from him?
She scooted back. He caught her move and scowled.
“I understand your reasoning,” she said, “but couldn’t we have just slept in separate beds until you got it under control?”
“Yeah, that’s what you said back then too.” He relaxed his hands. “I’ve had a few daytime flashbacks—not enough to make me leave the job—but my counseling is working in that area, and they’ve pretty much stopped. The dreams too, but I still occasionally have them.”
His upset troubled her, and she wanted to get up and give him a hug. He felt terrible for hurting her, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was telling the truth. She was married to him—this man who clearly still cared about her. Cared enough to walk out on her. She had to admire that, even though it frustrated her because she thought it was something a couple would work through. Together. After having lived through the horrifying experience, how had she actually felt about it? She sure would like to know.
Mentally and physically exhausted, she lay back and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was too much for now. I’ll go.”
He was probably right. Resting her brain was a good idea. But she didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.
She heard him push off the chair and stand. “Has anyone called your mom?”
She looked up at him. “I called Nancy. Mom’s caregiver. No point in worrying Mom when she might forget it anyway.”
He rested a hand on the back of the chair, and she admired his long fingers. “Do you remember the accident?”
