A dagger stabbed her heart. Twisted. Hot tears trailed out of her eyes but her whole torso had gone icy cold.
“Oh my God.” The whisper shook coming out of her numb lips. The sparkles turned into blurry, five-pointed stars. Halina’s breaths were ragged as she covered her mouth with her free hand.
She suddenly understood—everything. His fury, his deep hurt, his smoldering desire, his sense of complete betrayal. Mitch hadn’t just cared about her. He hadn’t just loved her. He’d planned his future with her. He’d committed his heart and soul to her.
Staring down at the gems, still sparkling happily after all this time hidden in that dismal box, something inside Halina broke—a physical snap at the center of her body.
Owen grabbed a bottle of water from the small refrigerator hidden beneath Stephanie’s desk. His secretary was long gone for the evening and Owen was glad to be alone. He entered his office with a sick, dull ache in his belly and fell into his desk chair. An hour of grilling by the head of DARPA, Carter Cox, was not a pleasant experience. Owen had known it was coming. Sofia had warned him she’d gone to Cox first to get permission to talk to Owen. Not that she’d needed it, but she was playing nice.
Owen smiled at the thought of Sofia. And the pleasure of seeing her earlier took away some of the discomfort in his gut. He’d been impatient to get the divorce papers before he’d seen her. After he’d seen her, he’d made a call to the divorce lawyer and asked him where the hell they were. His attorney was looking into it.
Owen turned on his computer and flipped through the messages his secretary had left him while he’d been in with Cox. A couple from his team. A few last-minute meeting changes. And one from . . . Jennifer? His daughter, Jennifer? He couldn’t remember the last time she’d called him. Not in months. And not in over a year at the office.
His brow pulled. Head tilted. He reached for his cell and tapped into the recent calls. One missed call . . . from Libby. But no message. The burn of alarm slid along his nerves. “What the hell?”
He dropped the messages and called Libby back on her cell. The call rolled into voice mail.
“Shit.” Owen disconnected and called Jennifer at home.
She picked up on the second ring with a blustering, “Oh, Daddy, he’s the cutest thing ever. I love him. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
The enthusiasm and pure love in her voice created a flurry of emotions he wasn’t ready for. Longing and loneliness blindsided him with a direct hit. But it didn’t take long for anxiety to creep in, because Jen’s voice dropped and she went on.
“Mom’s pissed, but she’s always with Philip,” Jenny said, referencing Libby’s lover of nearly a year, “and now that Josh has his license, he’s always with his friends. I’m always alone and . . . and . . . this is the best present ever. I really needed him.”
Her voice rose with emotion, the way it always did before she started to cry. And now that she was having her period regularly, those tears came a lot more often. But they still stabbed at Owen’s chest. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, aching at the thought of telling Jen he hadn’t done whatever she was so thankful for. Owen hadn’t forgotten her birthday, it was still four months away—she’d be fourteen. There was no special occasion coming up, nothing he’d missed. And he was doubly twisted over the fact that all this love was going to end up going to—probably—Philip.
“I miss you, Dad,” Jen said, her voice soft, but still brimming with pain. “Thanks for coming to my recital the other day. I saw you in the back.”
“I miss you, too, baby.” A sad smile lifted his mouth. At least he’d done something right. “I was going to come up after,” he said, then cleared the roughness from his voice, “I brought flowers—”
“I saw them.”
“But . . . it was so crowded, and you were busy . . .”
“And Philip was there.”
Owen smiled. “I don’t want to cause any more . . . issues. Baby, I just want you to be happy.”
“Well,” she suddenly bubbled to life again. “This little guy sure makes me happy. Where did you get him? He’s perfect.”
“Honey,”—the uneasy sensation grew—“get what? What are you talking about?”
“The puppy. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t you. Mom already knows.”
Puppy? “How does your mom know it was me?”
“The man who brought him told me and she overheard.”
Owen stood so fast, his chair banged the wall. Every muscle in his body tensed. Hands and jaw clenched. “A man”—he could barely get the words out—“brought a puppy to the house and told you it was a gift from me?”
“Yeah,” Jen said, apology and resignation in her voice. “Sorry, Dad. If I had known I could have made up a story to cover for you. You know, I found the puppy or a friend couldn’t keep him or something. But I didn’t know. I hope she doesn’t give you a bad time.”
Sweat broke out over the back of Owen’s neck and shoulders, down his spine. “Babe, what did the man look like?”
“Um, I don’t know. Kind of like you, but not as handsome. Wait . . . that’s weird to say, right?” She laughed. Owen wanted to absorb the sound, but couldn’t. “Anyway, he had short blond hair and his face was all cut up. He said he’d been in a car accident. Kinda looked like Frankenstein.”
Owen bent at the waist and planted his free hand on his desk. He was breathing hard. Seeing crimson. “How long did he stay, honey?”
“Just a little while. Came, dropped off the puppy . . . I think I’m going to name him Roscoe. Do you like it?”
Owen closed his eyes, searching for patience. “Yeah. Great name, Jen.”
“Then he left. He was really nice. Hey, Dad?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Can I see you soon? I know you’re, like, really busy . . . but . . .”
“Yes. Absolutely.” He dropped back into his chair, covered his eyes with a surge of sickness rolling in his belly. “How about next week? Want to stay here for the weekend? We can go house hunting for a new place for me.”
“Um . . . can I have Roscoe at your apartment?” she asked timidly. “Because no way will Mom take care of him for me and I wouldn’t trust Josh.”
“Abso”—fucking—“lutely, baby. Bring Roscoe.”
Owen said good-bye to Jen, then reconnected and dialed the cell number he’d gotten for Abernathy from his file.
“Colonel Young,” Abernathy answered on the second ring, his voice distracted, but with an air of knowing. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“What’s this about?” Owen said, he voice low and cold and controlled.
“I’m assuming you mean the dog? Damn, your daughter is the cutest little thing—”
“What . . . is . . . this . . . about?” One hand was clenched around the phone, the other in a fist. Every muscle in his body was rigid.
“Just a demonstration of how quickly I can get close to your family.”
Owen clenched his teeth. “Why?”
“Well, see, I’m going to need your help, Young. I understand you met Foster and his crew at the airport today. The whole chauffeur gig doesn’t really suit you, but, to each his own.”
“What do you want?” He enunciated every word clearly.
“For starters, I want you to show me where you put them up. We can go from there.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
“Let’s not play that game. I don’t have time. If you want your daughter to stay safe, Young, you’ll get your ass down to the parking garage in three minutes. I’m waiting in your car.” Abernathy paused, giving Owen just enough time to go a little insane. “If you can’t make it, I could always check on the pup—”