“Good point.” Alexa grinned. “Well, I’m happy for you.”
“What do you think Garrett will say? Both of you recruited me. And I think he wanted me to like New York more than I did. What can I say? I’m a Midwest girl.”
Alexa hated to think about Jessie moving back to Chicago just as they were becoming closer as partners, but she heard the joy in her voice and knew she was doing the right thing.
“You leave Garrett to me. I got you into this. And I’m glad you’re still my partner. When will you get back to New York?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll call you. We’ve got catching up to do.”
“Uh, I won’t be there. I took a personal trip of my own, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Before Jessie ended the call, she said, “Hey, Alexa? I just wanted you to know that I’m happy you recruited me. Working a real job for Garrett and having Seth in my life, I feel like I’ve turned a corner, you know?”
Alexa knew about turning corners. “Yeah, I do. And I’m glad you’re happy, Jessie. See you soon.”
As she walked along the shore, Alexa turned toward Jackson’s house, feeling the ocean breeze on her face. Hearing Jessie sounding so happy had been contagious. When her phone rang again, so soon after her partner’s call, she had a grin on her face when she answered.
“What did you forget now, partner?”
She heard a soft sniffle on the phone, and a woman came on the line, “Honey, is that you, Alexa?”
She recognized the voice of Tanya Spencer.
“Yeah, Tanya, it’s me. What’s up?”
“I’ve got some bad news, baby girl. And this time, it’s for real.” From the sounds of it, Tanya was crying. And it took a lot to make that woman break down. “You’ve got to come home, honey. I can’t do this without you.”
“Talk to me, Tanya. Tell me what happened.”
New York City
Upper East Side
The next night
Garrett’s memorial service was in three days, but Alexa had come back early to help Tanya with the arrangements. Because of the severity of the explosion, his body had never been found. They’d only found enough DNA to make ID, but that was all they had.
Alexa thought about the lie Donovan Cross had once told her about Garrett being dead. Had Donovan Cross been predicting an outcome he would have something to do with, or had his lie been a coincidental guess? In the covert world she lived in, coincidences were always suspicious. And that left her raging against the man who had taken Garrett’s job—and most probably, his life.
Jackson had come back to New York with her. He was sleeping in her bed, still weak from his ordeal. But when she couldn’t sleep, she got up and slipped on a robe before she crept into her living room to pour a shot of single-malt scotch. Sitting in the dark, she drank and lost count of how many she’d had as she stared out her window to the park across the street.
She couldn’t get her head wrapped around Garrett being dead. His smile, his face, his eyes were still fresh in her memory. How could his death be real? And yet this time she felt it was.
When her glass was empty, she went to refill it, but a shadow under her threshold caught her eye. And when she heard a soft swish and saw something slide under her front door, she went for her gun.
Armed, she kept the light off and reached for the door handle. Before she opened it, she listened for any sounds coming from the hallway. When she didn’t hear anything, she flung open the door and aimed her weapon.
No one was in the hall, but someone had definitely been there.
She stepped back inside to find an envelope on her floor. After she flipped the dead bolt, she picked up the note, using her robe to hold it, not wanting to contaminate any evidence if it came to that. She dropped the note on her kitchen counter and used the end of a pencil to open it.
When she recognized the handwriting, she gasped and stared at the message, having trouble breathing. When she finally collapsed onto her sofa, she held the note in trembling fingers, careful to preserve the paper as much as she could.
From what she saw, the message was from Garrett.
Alexa—
I couldn’t leave without telling you what happened. I’m alive, Alexa. I didn’t die in that blast, no matter what proof they come up with.
I don’t know what role Cross played in this but know that he had a choice. He could’ve killed me, the way he was probably ordered to do. But if you say anything about getting this letter from me, or that I’m still alive, they will hunt me down and go after Cross, too.
There’s still a lot I don’t understand. And I don’t fully appreciate what Cross did, but maybe that will come in time. Thanks to Donovan Cross, I have a chance to make a new life for myself if I want it.
Don’t make the same mistake Jackson did, by clinging to the past. Make a future that’s worth holding on to. You always deserved better than I could ever give you.
Know that I will always love you, Alexa. Always.
Garrett
When she’d finished reading, she felt the cool trail of tears on her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. Garrett was alive? How was that possible? Her emotions ran the gamut from intense anger to relief that he might be all right—“might” being the operative word. She had no way to be sure.
It was comforting to believe Garrett had actually written the message, but she didn’t trust Donovan Cross. The personal script in Garrett’s handwriting, and delivered to her door in cryptic fashion, had been a nice touch. The words sounded like him, especially the personal part about Kinkaid, but she had no way of knowing for sure. Paranoia was a hazard of the job.
And not knowing the truth, one way or the other, hurt just as much as thinking he was dead.
Given the covert life she had made with the Sentinels—recruited by Garrett Wheeler himself—the truth was hard to recognize, even when it came in the form of a handwritten note from a man she would never forget.
Sentinels’ Headquarters
Next morning
Alexa held her head high as she walked down the corridor to Garrett’s . . . to Donovan Cross’s office. She braced for the flood of emotion she knew she’d feel. Imagining someone else behind Garrett’s desk would be a shock, especially now that she’d have to accept that Garrett was really gone from her life.
She’d wanted to believe that he hadn’t died in that dock explosion. And the pain of her grief had been tempered by the hope that the message from him had been real, but she didn’t want to play the part of a fool—Donovan Cross’s fool.
If Garrett had a second chance at a normal life—knowing that returning to his covert world would be dangerous for him and the people he loved—would he take it? If he was alive, would he want his old life back, the one that had been stolen from him? Garrett had always been a fighter. She couldn’t see him severing ties to a life he’d worked hard to build, not willingly.
The way she saw it, Donovan Cross and the men behind him had orchestrated a clever coup to eliminate Garrett. And the coup de grâce to put her out of her misery over his sudden departure had been that message. Maybe they thought it would shut her up and quell any curiosity she would have over what had happened to Garrett.
Alexa knew she had a choice to walk away and give up the life or stay put and keep an eye on Cross. With her partner Jessie so happy, the decision she’d made to stick hadn’t been difficult. Someone had to watch Jessie’s back, especially with the double-dealing Donovan Cross at the helm. If Alexa believed what was in Garrett’s note, Cross might have saved his life, but the man was also working for the faction within the Sentinels that had ordered a hit on him.