Timing, page 18
Now, she was more confused than ever.
She couldn't help but compare them. Weigh them both in her mind.
Probably the weirdest thing of all was the fact that she was head over heels… for both of them.
How could that even be possible when they were so different?
Boone had been her first kiss. And it had been wonderful—strangely comforting. Like returning home after a long absence. With him, things were calm. Easy. Familiar. A warm summer day without a cloud in the sky.
But was he too much like her father? Was he too old? Did he excite her enough?
Alexander's kiss had been something else entirely—exhilarating to the point of making her dizzy. And he was… well, he was like a wildfire. Unpredictable. Consuming. Maybe even dangerous. With him, exciting wasn't even remotely an issue—the problem was his mysteriousness. He was somewhat aloof and, for some reason, it felt like he was keeping things from her.
And no matter how hard she tried, Hannah couldn't get the gun off her mind. It's not like it was the gun itself that really bothered her. She'd been raised around guns. She even had her own shotgun. It was the fact that he was a foreigner who had a gun in his possession when he was with her which was slightly bothersome. For what reason could he possibly need a pistol?
Then there was the issue of him disappearing. She hadn't dared broach the subject with him on their first date. She'd decided that morning after much deliberation—not long before he came to pick her up—to bring it up another time. She'd wanted to enjoy her date with him and not give him the third degree from ground zero.
Still, something deep inside of her—call it instinct, intuition, a sixth sense—whatever it was, kept telling her things about Alexander which, if she was totally honest with herself, she knew full well that she didn't really want to hear.
The voice went off in her head at random times like a broken grandfather clock.
She'd first heard it on the last day with her father.
Now it appeared more frequently, especially since the arrival of Alexander.
Be careful, it said. He's dangerous. He's not good for you.
Hannah's logical side pooh-poohed it away. She wasn't about to live her life in fear.
And yet, strangely enough, it was this dark and dangerous side of the Russian that appealed to her most, luring her to him without reservation, in spite of any so-called premonitions.
All Hannah knew was no matter how hard she tried to deny it, every minute, every second that went by made Alexander Stastny more and more irresistible to her.
Yet she also knew that time had watered the seed of Boone Grassle within her, a seed planted long ago during her childhood. A seed fertilized on their day spent together at Driftwood Falls.
CHAPTER 22—WATCHER
As Hannah fell asleep that night with thoughts of Boone and Alexander churning in her head, Sicarius watched her chest rise and fall with the gentle, rhythmic pulse of slumber, like he had for many nights now.
He could tell she didn't yet have her powers, but he could sense it wouldn't be long.
He'd been given strict orders not to eliminate the target before he'd verified her status.
The end… no, her end, he thought with an enormous degree of satisfaction, was near.
CHAPTER 23—WALDORF
Having finished their business at Aralk's the previous evening, Jackie and all of the others had spent the day together debriefing about the latest developments revealed to them by the Supreme Leader. Afterwards, she'd invited everyone to her hotel for drinks, but Hagan and Clark had other business to attend to, and Pierre and Hugh had both needed to catch evening flights out of LaGuardia.
So, she and Timothy had decided to go on without them, and they were now sitting across from each other at a cozy, private table at the Waldorf in New York City.
"It's nice to be in a place where we're left alone, isn't it?" Jackie took a sip of her martini.
Timothy closed his eyes and arched his head back and forward in an exaggerated motion, "Mmm… You've got that right."
Timothy threw down some brandy and extended an arm directly in front of her, spreading his perfectly-manicured fingers wide. "Just last week, I had this mangy gal who came to my DC office—just appeared out of nowhere, mind you—she'd managed to finagle her way past my secretary, whom I later discovered was in the bathroom. So anyway, this lady walks to the front of my desk and says, 'You must be Senator Welchel,' and I say, 'Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am. And you are—' 'Margaret,' she said, 'Margaret Swallow.' I asked her if she had an appointment, and she shook her head. And then I said, 'Well, Margaret, what can I do for you today?'"
He downed the rest of his drink and motioned for the waiter. A man in a white shirt and bowtie promptly appeared.
"Sir?"
The Senator pointed at the empty glass without even looking at him. "I'll have another."
The waiter tipped his head. "Of course, sir."
"Anyhow, back to my story. This woman told me she needed help." He rolled his eyes. "Now, tell me Jackie, do I look like a charity office to you?"
Jackie laughed. "Well, now I don't know, Tim… I really think I could see you ringing that bell in a red apron at Christmastime…"
"Hah, hah. Very funny."
"Well, what was wrong with her?"
"Oh, I don't remember, something along the lines of she had a large brood, and the husband had left her or some damn thing. Lost their house, the family dog, you know the usual sob story."
She nodded. "So what did you tell her?"
"That we were working day and night to give her hope, to provide for her needs. You know the spiel—"
"It sounds like a nightmare. How did you get rid of her?"
"Well, by about this time, I saw that Nancy was back at her post, and so I excused myself and marched right out to her desk and whispered in her ear that she had exactly sixty seconds to deal with this hobo in my office or she would be out of a job."
"Did it work?"
"Did it ever. I've never seen the girl move so fast in her entire life. I think she took down the lady's information and told her she'd be in touch. Hell, what did I care how she did it? The broad was out of my sight."
Jackie shook her head. "They really don't understand how much we've got on our plates. How much we are doing on their behalf. And how little we get in return. I suppose we're sort of celebrities to them."
"Yeah, that's why places like this are so nice. There's a mutual sense of respect all around, a common level of decency and sophistication… and people leave you alone."
Jackie's phone vibrated.
"Who is it?" Timothy asked peering over the rim of his tumbler.
She hit the dismiss button and looked up. "Hannah. Just wanting to know when I'm coming home."
"Have you told her the big news?"
"What big news?"
"About your little reporter friend."
"Not yet."
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
"I'm not waiting. Any longer. Paul is coming home with me this weekend."
He grinned. "And how do you propose to pull that off?"
"Very carefully." Jackie used her fingers to slide the olive off of the toothpick and into her mouth. After she finished chewing, she swallowed it and said, "I really could eat a whole jar of those."
"I know what you mean." He loosened his tie. "How about some crab cakes? You know how good they are here."
"That sounds perfect."
Less than ten minutes later, the order arrived on fine china rimmed in gold.
"I didn't realize I was this hungry," Jackie said. "But come to think of it, I didn't really have dinner."
"I did eat supper, but drinks always make me famished anyway."
The Senators devoured them until there was only one left. Jackie insisted Timothy take it, and he'd answered, with a goofy grin, that he didn't mind if he did.
After the waiter cleared the table, Senator Welchel dabbed the sides of his mouth with his napkin. And then his gaze all at once narrowed. He grabbed the sides of the table and leaned as far as he could across it, lowering his voice to a murmur.
"So, Jackie, how do you plan to prepare your family for Operation Snowflake?"
His alcohol-laced breath reminded her of a fraternity house. Jackie's head immediately dropped, and she stole glances over both of her shoulders, quickly dismissing him with a flick of her hand. "This isn't the place, Tim. You know the strict orders Aralk gave about not discussing anything outside of certain boundaries."
He answered in a toddler's whisper, "You're right, you're right. Sorry, Jackie. I just couldn't help myself."
She patted the top of his hand. "It's okay, Tim. It's okay," she said in a Mother Hen voice.
This wasn't the first time she'd seen Timothy's drinking was doing the talking for him.
CHAPTER 24—CHANGE
Jackie's Mercedes pulled down the long driveway just in time to see Hannah come in from riding. Through the windshield's glare, she caught a glimpse of her daughter's flushed cheeks and the horse's flaring nostrils, both of which indicated that she had, once again, pushed the boundaries. She loved to ride hard and even jump obstacles, just like Vance had. It had always made Jackie nervous.
Ah well, few things surprised her anymore. And the days of influencing her daughter's development were long gone. Some things just weren't worth the fight. Some things were better left alone.
Hannah pulled the reins up sharply toward her sternum, the sudden movement kicking up a cloud of dust and whipping her hair all around her face.
Jackie shook her head. And in spite of herself, she couldn't stop her mouth from turning up at the corners. Her child reminded her of a wild stallion: full of raw, unbroken beauty which had yet to yield to the ways of the world. Occasionally, she saw herself in her daughter, but more often she saw glimpses of her late husband. In any case, what attempts Jackie had made to "tame" her, had only ever pushed her in the other direction. Toward her father.
Still, despite their differences, Jackie was proud of her. Especially today.
There was special cause to celebrate, and she was in a particularly jovial mood. She took a swig of her mineral water and handed the bottle to Paul, who replaced the cap.
Hannah grinned from atop her horse, but just as she went to wave, her hand stopped mid-air.
"Uh-oh," the man said with a grimace. "She saw me."
Jackie slid her hand over his and glanced over at him with a heavy sigh. "Well, Paul, we've got to tell her sometime. It's not like we can keep it a secret forever."
"I know. I know. I just wonder if it's too soon."
"She'll be fine," Jackie said. "Trust me."
Paul wasn't convinced. Jackie had won the argument about whether or not he should come back to Colorado to meet Hannah. But he'd had some strong reservations.
It was too soon since the death of her father, he'd argued. She'd figure out, he'd told her, that there was more to it than they were letting on.
But Jackie was tired of keeping their relationship a secret and besides, she'd reasoned, all Hannah needed to know was that he was doing a news story. They could act as friends, she'd assured him, and Hannah wouldn't suspect a thing.
Paul was skeptical to say the least. He knew all too well that little escaped the bloodhound nose of a teenager. They often smelled the truth before even seeing it.
"Ready?" Jackie had parked the car outside of the garage.
"Sure," he cracked a grin. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Jackie and Paul found her in the barn brushing down her horse. In her peripheral vision, Hannah saw her mother's high heels approaching, but she pretended not to notice, instead focusing all of her energy on smoothing out Zane's coat and taking long, even strokes with her brush.
"Hi honey."
From the barn entrance, Jackie threw out the greeting as if nothing were out of the ordinary, as if having a new man at her father's home just a few months after his death was commonplace.
Yeah, sure, Mom. Just another day at the ranch, huh?
Hannah pursed her lips together and fought off the urge to puke. If her mother thought she was stupid enough to fall for her antics, then she was in for a rude awakening.
Jackie came up beside her and pecked her on the forehead, simultaneously curling an arm around Hannah's shoulders as if the two of them were long-lost friends.
"Hey," Hannah grumbled, willing her gaze straight ahead.
She wasn't about to recognize the intruder.
But instead of forcing things, Jackie let go of Hannah and moved in the direction of the horse.
It surprised Hannah that her mom had actually dared to step this close to a creature with four legs. The last time Jackie Bailey had ridden a horse—actually, the only time she'd ridden a horse, if you could even really call it riding—she'd had an up-close encounter with Mother Earth, and had ended up bruised and battered with a complimentary facial in a steaming warm cow pie.
She'd been posing for American Politics Magazine in an expensive riding outfit which had looked absolutely absurd because she wasn't even one iota of a horsewoman.
Naturally though, she'd insisted on looking the part for the press.
When she'd finally risen like Lazarus from the dead, the excrement had practically embedded itself into nearly every single pore of her face.
It had been all Hannah and Vance could do to hold back the hysterics.
Hannah had always felt that animals sensed dislike from humans and made it their priority to retaliate. In that particular instance, the scene was so perfectly orchestrated it was as if the animal had been planning it for months.
Even now, Zane's ears were pinned back against his head, and his eyes were darting back and forth as if not entirely sure of what to settle on. His tail swished, and his front leg stomped a couple of times.
"Um, Mom, you might want to just let me finish up with him."
"Oh, it's fine Hannah. He's such a nice horse."
Under any other circumstances, her mother would have backed away from the animal and would probably have never even approached him in the first place. But the VIP male audience had clearly emboldened her. Jackie strummed the horse's chin and flashed a Hollywood smile in the man's direction. Then, it happened fast. One second the horse was harmlessly nuzzling the front of her navy blue jacket, and the next second Jackie was screeching like a peacock as horse boogers landed front and center on her designer suit.
Zane had snorted out enough mucus from his facial orifices to texture an entire wall of sheetrock.
Hannah fell down onto the ground laughing until her sides hurt. And she also happened to notice—in between tears and not without a substantial degree of amusement—that the mystery man, who still hung a few yards back, had folded his arms in front of him and sent the back of one hand north.
Even he was trying not to laugh.
If only the magazine spread had gotten this snapshot, Hannah thought.
As if reading her mind, Jackie shot her an angry look.
"That damn animal," Jackie snarled. "I don't know why I ever agreed to let you have him in the first place."
"You didn't," Hannah said smugly.
She looked right at the man. "Dad did," she said, locking eyes with him.
The mention of her father brought an immediate stillness over the barn, as if all of the sudden her father's spirit had descended upon them.
Even the animals grew quiet.
Jackie's eyes slanted and lips pulled together, as she wiped her face with a sleeve.
"Hannah," she said stringing out the word as if it would somehow help her regain her composure, "I want to introduce you to Paul." She smiled grandly, gesturing toward him as if introducing her prize-winning pickles at the fair. "Paul Hurley," she added with an air of formality.
The man said hi and stepped toward Hannah as if unsure just how close he should get.
"Hi," Hannah said, taking the outstretched hand. The fact that he'd chuckled at her mother's expense had already earned him points in her book.
He looked harmless enough—in a kind of Humpty-Dumpty sort of a way. He had a nice smile and clean lines across his chin and cheekbones.
But then something registered in her brain, like she'd seen him before. And then his checkmark-shaped eyebrow, which made it seem as though he was continually on the verge of asking a question, gave it away.
Before she could stop, she'd blurted it out. "You're that news guy—"
His eyes twinkled at her while Jackie answered for him. "I thought you might recognize him, Hannah. Paul is the anchor on American News Network, you know ANN."
Hannah's head bobbed in a protracted nod. "Ah-hah. That's where I've seen you. I thought you looked familiar."
Paul nodded. "I get it quite a bit—people recognize me but can't quite put a finger on where they've seen me before."
Jackie cleared her throat. "Paul is doing a report on a day in the life of a Senator, and he chose to profile me. He's been following my schedule for the last few weeks, and so I invited him to the ranch so he can see what my life is like when I'm not in Washington."
Hannah's eyebrows lifted as she grabbed Zane's halter and led him toward his stall. Just a few feet past them, she stopped and swiveled her head back around.
"Hmm," she said thoughtfully, with a deliberate pause for effect. "Could've fooled me. For a second there, I thought you were my mom's boyfriend."
CHAPTER 25—PROTECTION
In the center of the dining room table, brass candlesticks flickered with golden light on either side of an autumn floral arrangement accented with miniature cattails and dried lotus pods. Gourds, tiny pumpkins, and ornamental corn lay on the cream-colored tablecloth amidst lily pad potholders. And in one corner were two bottles of sparkling cider, each with beads of condensation dribbling down their sides.
Upstairs in her bedroom, Jackie stared at her reflection in the vanity. She was feeling hopeful, almost renewed in a way, to spend an evening with Paul and Hannah. As she brushed her hair, she thought about how far she'd come since Vance's death.
