Before Sunrise Read online

  “Okay…so be safe, honey, and call me when you know something definite. I love you!” Angelina grinned. She winked at Kennedy who sat down, and habitually checked the time once again.

  “Would you stop looking at your watch? You said I had an hour, so I get an hour.”

  “I know, girl, but Steven is a bastard when he’s in middle of a tough case.”

  “Quit. Phil wants you to.”

  Kennedy frowned. “I don’t care what Phil wants. I’m not quitting my job.”

  “Hey, it’s a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.”

  Kennedy shrugged. “Sorry.” She looked for the waiter. He arrived pronto and she proceeded to order the Cobb Salad and a lemon tea. Angelina ordered the pasta dish minus the Andouille sausage.

  “How you feeling?” Kennedy peeked over the floral centerpiece at her friend’s belly.

  “Fat.”

  They both laughed.

  “So where’s Anthony?” Kennedy asked.

  “He was in some desert somewhere last week, girl. But I got a surprise call from him just now, from a stateside number. So he’s safe, I suppose. I know he better have his ass back here full-time before I deliver this baby.”

  “So Anthony and Eric are fine? Phil mentioned this morning that something was up.”

  Angelina nodded, sipping her water. “Yeah, he’s fine. I’m pretty sure I heard Madame Sinclair in the background, running her mouth. Ugh.” Angelina grimaced.

  Kennedy cut her eyes away. The passage of time hadn’t helped her appreciate Alexa. Actually, that was too polite. She couldn’t stand her. She knew that woman still had a thing for Liam. At the memorial, Alexa had been the one crying the loudest, hollering, practically, until Phil had glared at Eric, and Eric led her outside and away. He’d kept her far to the back at the graveside part of the service. Angelina hated her even more than Kennedy did.

  “Alexa’s still the head bitch in charge?” Kennedy asked.

  “Or until we get another president. Got me wanting to register to vote.” Angelina rolled her eyes.

  Kennedy laughed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your husband is a captain serving his nation and you don’t vote?”

  “Please, they keep my man 300 days out of the year; I only get 60. Screw them. They got all the civic duty they gone get out of me.”

  “Touché.”

  The waiter delivered her tea. Kennedy’s throat felt raw. The cold drink soothed her, inside and out. She looked up and noticed the way Angelina stared. “What?”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Why does something have to be wrong?”

  “Hell, you look like you just had an orgasm from a glass of sweet tea. Phil not taking care of business at home?”

  Kennedy almost choked. She shook her head laughing, dabbing at the spill on her chin with a napkin. “No honey, he’s all over me. Sex almost every night. I swear.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  “Hardly, it’s…well, it’s not like Liam,” Kennedy confessed. Angelina was the only person she could talk about Liam with, the only one who understood why she still needed to talk about him.

  “Hell, that’s because fucking Liam was like fucking Tarzan. I’m married to a wild one too, so you know I know.”

  Kennedy laughed. “No, silly. It’s the connection I’m talking about. I care for Phil. And I know he loves me, it’s just…I—”

  “Kennedy, come on. It’s been five years, you’ve remarried. You have to let Liam go.”

  “I have, Angelina. I’m just talking about him. I swear, you all act like I’m going to break into a million pieces if someone mentions his name,” she huffed.

  “We were there. We saw what his death did to you. We were all scared, terrified. That’s all.”

  “I know. I know.” Kennedy sighed. “Anyways, that’s not what’s bothering me.”

  “Okay, spill.”

  “Phil wants a baby,” she blurted out, though she felt a sense of relief to have said the words aloud. She’d been wound up tight since he’d asked her to go off the Pill. He told her he wanted a baby, their own child. She’d promised to think about it. In fact, it was all she’d been able to think about.

  “You knew this was coming, Kennedy.”

  “I guess,” she sighed.

  Angelina looked up when their glasses were refilled. “You know sometimes, sweetie, I think you married Phil for show.”

  “Why?”

  “Mac and Phil are so close, and he was always around to play the papa role. It’s like you decided to prove you were ready to move on to all of us, but more importantly to yourself.”

  “I care for Phil.”

  “Love, Kennedy. The word is love.”

  “Yeah, I know. I love him.”

  “So this baby?”

  Kennedy stared out the windows at the gardens. Her stomach soured at the thought of it, even if it meant a sibling for Mac. But he’s my husband. It was her mother who pushed for them to marry. Her mother never liked Liam, but she drooled all over Phil. The only people who had any objection to their marriage was her kid sister Harper, and Eric Drake, who’d been the brother Liam needed but never had. Harper and Eric were the founding members of Liam’s fan club. Even today, Harper could rarely be civil to Phil. She called him ‘the pretender.’

  “Kennedy?”

  “I’m thinking! I mean, Mac came early. We almost lost her.”

  “There were circumstances around Mac coming early. You know that. Go see your doctor, see if it’s okay.”

  “Wow, you’ve already decided for me, huh?” Kennedy sat back.

  “Hell, I got the twins and one on the way. Damn right I want you to be miserable too. We got to stick together!”

  Kennedy laughed. She covered her mouth to keep the sound under control. When she managed to reduce it to giggles she nodded her head. “I know it’s just a baby Angie, but I can’t get my head around it. I’ll decide soon.”

  “Well, has Phil let up on adopting Mac?”

  Kennedy rolled her eyes. “He had better, or my mother-in-law will get a shotgun after him.”

  “Liam’s mom that pissed, huh?”

  “Yes, Liam was all she had. He had a rough childhood and she wasn’t able to protect him much. But they were closer before he died. Now she feels like she has to be the reminder to Mac of who Liam was and who she came from.”

  The sadness returned. Sometimes it was hard for Kennedy to breathe when she thought of her dead husband, and Sally felt the same. When Kennedy married Phil, he asked to adopt her daughter. His reasoning? He wanted both his girls to take on his last name. Kennedy said no of course, but Phil thought it was because of Liam’s mother. The fool had the nerve to call her in Chicago and ask for permission. Sally went nuts. Somehow, she scraped together enough money to fly into town and had her own confrontation with Kennedy, who’d never seen Sally more passionate about anything. Kennedy wondered if Liam were smiling down from heaven to see his mother stand up for him. Not going to happen. Mackenzie is a Flanagan and it will remain that way. Hell, my baby keeps Liam’s picture next to her bed.

  “Yeah, the twins told me. Last time they were at your house Mac and the boys got into a debate over whose dad is the biggest hero. The twins said they won the argument because their father was alive. The boys said heroes can’t be killed. I meant to tell you this, girl. I felt awful. Did she mention it?”

  Kennedy frowned. Their lunches were placed before them. Mackenzie hadn’t mentioned it, but she remembered finding her crying and fighting with the boys. She didn’t know the cause. That must have really hurt her little girl. A ball of pain lodged in Kennedy’s throat.

  “I read them the riot act good, don’t you worry.”

  Kennedy smirked. “Gee, thanks, Angie.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Kennedy bit down on her lip, swallowing. “I guess Phil deserves a wife and a life free of my pain. So does my baby. Mackenzie would love a little brother or sister.”

  “You deserve s
ome happiness too, Kennedy. Having a child will move your family forward.”

  Kennedy smiled as she picked up her fork. She felt somewhat better, and warmed up to the prospect of a new future. She decided to take a leap of faith. She would tell Phil that she would be going off the Pill and moving ahead with their plans to expand their family. It was time to let go of the ghost that haunted her, let go of her husband, and accept the choice she made. Liam would have wanted that for them both.

  ***

  Two Weeks Later

  Liam tugged at the drawstring of the thin pants he wore. A wave of dizziness went through him. He walked stiffly to the bathroom and snapped on the light. The cramped grey space was equipped with a toilet, sink, and a showerhead that pointed directly down to the drain in the middle of the floor. It was heaven compared to what he’d been forced to endure.

  Someone from the supply corps had brought several brand-new sets of utilities and left them folded on the desk. The nurse had given him a razor, scissors, and some shaving cream. The items waited for him on the shelf over the sink. He didn’t recognize the bearded man who stared back at him from the mirror. He used the scissors first, wishing for a pair of clippers. He cut the scruff from his jaw; his hair looked way longer than regulation in some spots, barely a quarter-inch off his scalp in others. He wondered if it had fallen out, or if some doctor had shaved it off. He just kept cutting, dropping clumps of dingy, tangled hair into the toilet. He did the best to shave and groom himself. The final result proved to be a huge improvement over what he’d seen in the mirror half an hour before. He literally shuddered to think of the way he’d looked when he’d first been brought aboard.

  Staring at his reflection, he felt such anger and disappointment. He didn’t want her to see him this way. He still had dark circles under his eyes, and his face had that sunken, hollow look, like the bums that slept in the doorways on Madison back home. He’d been holding down solid foods, but it would take a while for him to get his body mass back. What would Kennedy think of her broken husband now?

  Liam craved his lady. He fought against unspeakable odds and cruelties to get back to her. He was done waiting, done debriefing officials from every branch of the service, and a couple of the covert ones too. He understood who Alexa and Eric were now.

  From what he’d been told, a new counterterrorism unit had been created shortly after the success of his mission five years ago. Vasquez now led the team, completely black ops, with members taken from all branches of the service. Plans for such a cross-service venture had been proposed years before, but the politics of command had always gotten in the way. Those politics vaporized in the hours after 9/11, and changes had been implemented in record time. Liam’s unit had been redeployed to Fort Bragg, where they’d been mixed and merged with the Deltas based there and a few volunteers from the Marine Special Purpose Force. As usual, the Marines had wanted to go their own way about things.

  The unit had a focused, singular goal: eradicate the threat of terror wherever it could be found on foreign soil. Oversight was provided by a joint-services task force, with representatives from the CIA, the NSA, and the DoD, each sharing their own flavor of op intel. That wasn’t the biggest change. This new organizational structure completely bypassed the Joint Special Operations Command, somehow, and Alexa Sinclair had not only been promoted to full colonel, but appointed their tactical liaison to the White House as well.

  After hearing the word ‘colonel’, Liam had gone a little fuzzy on the rest of the details. It wasn’t funny, but he had no choice except to chuckle. Life had a fucked-up sense of humor. He got tortured for five years and they got medals and promotions for bravery. Yep, that’s a fair trade.

  Liam sulked on that for a few days. Soon afterward, he decided he didn’t give a shit anymore. All he wanted was his family. He’d get his life back, and when he did, he’d never let go of his Kennedy again. But they were getting in his way there, too. They’d impressed upon him the need for secrecy. The night they’d found Liam, they’d removed the bodies of the two soldiers and authorized an airstrike right over the spot where he’d been held. First, they’d tossed a few of the dead combatants, naked, into the hole. The strategists wanted everyone to assume any bone fragments left behind had been the captive Americans, ironically killed by one of their own bombs. The CT strategists hoped it would buy them enough extra time to track Sarkhir and get one more shot at him.

  They wanted Liam to stay aboard ship for several more weeks. Well, fuck that. His friends owed him their lives and their successes. He would find a way to make them use their power and cut his chains.

  He pulled the belt of his pants tight, tighter than he ever had before in his life, and took a last look in the mirror. He was fully dressed and standing on his own power for the first time in months. He wanted to appreciate every step back to normal, but he still felt naked without his wedding ring.

  He limped out of the bathroom just as a sharp knock came and the latch to the outer door released. A very young, red-faced lieutenant looked in and saluted him. Liam stood there for a moment, clenching his teeth. Though Liam was much older, the two men were of the same rank. A salute wasn’t required, and the kid knew that. Liam gave him a half-handed salute back and glared silently at the gold metal emblem pinned to his collar. Naval Intelligence Service. Kid’s probably not even warfare-qualified. Rides a fucking desk.

  “Your attendance is requested in the satellite room, Lieutenant.”

  Finally. He’d been demanding this meeting for more than a week. He tried not to be too bitter over the repeated delays. He was more than happy to get it over with. He grabbed a pair of crutches to aid him. “Lead the way.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  The officer held open the metal door for Liam to step through. He wondered if Alexa would be there. Her availability had been one of the crappy excuses they’d given him, the demands on her time, how hard it was for her to come out this far. From Washington, he assumed. He still didn’t fully understand her role in all of this. Since his capture, there had been flashes of people and conversations that led to little clues. For instance, he felt almost certain Alexa had been at his side the first days after his rescue, and she’d pulled major rank on more than one official to get there and stay there. He was so heavily medicated at the time he couldn’t be sure.

  Now he intended to confront them all and get the answers he needed. Somehow it made him feel alive again. He managed most of the way with the crutches until he had to climb to an upper deck. He passed off his crutches to the lieutenant and grunted as he forced himself to do most of it on his own. At one time he could have kicked all their asses for sport. Now he’d become some weakling. Fuck that.

  When he emerged at the top of the ladder, he found several officers who saluted him as he limped by. A few had obviously heard of his rescue and nodded appreciatively toward him. So much for keeping it a secret. Liam glanced back over his shoulder.

  “Where are the men who were found with me?” he asked.

  The officials who flowed in and out of his room would never disclose what had happened to them. At some point, Liam had stopped asking, but the kid looked like the type who needed approval. Maybe he’d want to score a few points.

  “They didn’t make it, sir.” The officer cleared his throat.

  Liam shook his head and sighed. Privates Jacob Pettyman and Daniel Acevedo had been kids, too. Neither had even been twenty when they were thrown into confinement with him. He’d manipulated the situation as best he could, taking most of the abuse in order to spare them. How could God be so cruel?

  His escort delivered him to a large wardroom somewhere in the heart of flag country. Everyone stood passively around a black lacquer table, waiting. The center of the table was aglow with an interactive color large-screen display that pinpointed the location of all ships and military installments in the area of operations, as well as all listening posts, both active and passive.

  They were in the middle of the ocean, Liam fi
gured, studying the chart. He knew they were far from land, but hadn’t known how far. Way too far for a COD flight, goddamnit. They had him.

  Alexa noticed him first, then Ant, who nudged Eric. He had to smirk. At one time, they’d looked to him for leadership, and now he had to salute each one of them. The others watched him hobble in. The rest of the men in the room he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. It pissed him off not to recognize even one of them. How long had he been gone again?

  “Welcome.” Alexa smiled brightly at him and he smirked back. She pointed him to a chair in the center of the long side of the table.

  Eric leaned over. He touched his arm as he sat down. “Liam, are you up for this?”

  “Fuckin’ A. I want this over with so I can get home.”

  Eric nodded, and everyone quietly found their seats. Liam leaned back in his chair. The exertion to get to the room had him tired, and even though he supposed the chair would be considered comfortable, sitting up still hurt.

  Alexa introduced the others present, as well as the men on the secure link who were conferenced in for the meeting. They gave the usual your country thanks you bullshit he had heard sixty-plus times from every man or woman who’d visited him since he awoke. Liam sat there, wondering when the hell it would be his turn. The moment the man in the corner seat paused between sentences, Liam broke protocol and spoke.

  “What do you want to know?” He looked directly at the only man in the room not in uniform, the only one who had not been introduced. The guy had that CIA-spook look about him.

  From directly across the table, Alexa cleared her throat as a warning to him. Liam ignored her.