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Authors: Natalie J. Damschroder
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anything to give anyone right now, never mind a smart, sweet-natured, pit bull of a woman who deserved more than he could offer even before all this mess happened. So he let the question go unanswered, called her Dr. Berwell, and hoped things evened out over time.
No, he wasn’t gay. But the pain when he lost Jason had rivaled the pain of losing Kelly. Lark had teased him once, back during some psych or sociology class she’d been taking in college, that he and Jason were platonic soulmates. He’d scoffed, but she was right. Matthew had never known another person—except Kelly—who understood him and supported him like Jason did. Jason wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was being stupid, or an ass, or both. But he had Matthew’s back, no matter what, and that was something you didn’t let get away.
He stopped when he reached the top floor, walking in a circle and shaking out his burning legs while his breathing slowed. He wished Lark’s call hadn’t come while the Secretary of Defense was in his office. Now he had to wait until they arrived at the safe house and called him again. He couldn’t believe how close Kemmerling had gotten. He’d hoped the shower photo was a ploy, meant to scare him, and hadn’t expected them to actually make a move on Lark. But not only had Kemmerling made a move, he’d gained a valuable advantage—he knew Jason was alive.
Matthew wanted them both here, now, where no one would threaten their safety again.
Cursing, he punched in the access code on the pad next to the door and impatiently submitted to the biometric checks before it let him through. He almost forgot to wipe his print off the scanner and cursed again. If only he could have been the one to go get Lark, he’d have ripped Kemmerling to pieces.
He smoothed his scowl. Despite confirming his survival, it had been the right thing, sending Jason. Ripping Isaac, while satisfying, was definitely not what Hummingbird needed right now.
Matthew reached his office and eased into his chair, spinning to stare out the window at the empty parking lot, busy street, and sparkling Potomac in the distance. The sun had begun to sink on the other side of the building, and it lent a rosiness to the picture that would normally be soothing. He inhaled and let his breath out slowly. This was his first chance in weeks to sit calmly with nothing and no one demanding his attention. Inevitably, that thought led him to the pile of paperwork on his desk and a mental to-do list that had grown steadily while he took care of big-picture items.
He was just about to give in and do some work when the phone rang. Not his cell, so it probably wasn’t Jason or Lark. He wasn’t sure what traffic would be like up in Boston, and how long it would take them to get to the safe house. But there wasn’t any reason for anyone to be calling him on the work line, either, with no agents on active duty tonight. He spun his chair and lifted the receiver.
“Madrassa.”
“Matt? Matthew? You’re there. Oh, I’m so glad.” The woman, whose voice he didn’t recognize, choked back what sounded like a sob.
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“It’s Ella. Ella Darron? I know, it’s been years, but I just… I’m sorry, I’m going about this all wrong.”
“Are you in danger, Ella?” He couldn’t imagine why else his sister-in-law would call him. They’d lost touch years ago, before Lark even graduated from high school. Ella and Kelly had never been close. While Kelly was a mom first, hobbyist second, and quite content with not working a real job, Ella had been an odd combination of driven businessperson and wacky artist. She was…forty-two now?
“No, no, I’m not in danger. Not immediate danger. I mean, not in danger at all. That’s not really what it is.”
Matthew stifled a sigh of irritation. “Then take a breath, calm down, and tell me what’s wrong.”
She inhaled noisily and took a few seconds to exhale. “I can’t tell you over the phone.”
“My lines
No, he wasn’t gay. But the pain when he lost Jason had rivaled the pain of losing Kelly. Lark had teased him once, back during some psych or sociology class she’d been taking in college, that he and Jason were platonic soulmates. He’d scoffed, but she was right. Matthew had never known another person—except Kelly—who understood him and supported him like Jason did. Jason wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was being stupid, or an ass, or both. But he had Matthew’s back, no matter what, and that was something you didn’t let get away.
He stopped when he reached the top floor, walking in a circle and shaking out his burning legs while his breathing slowed. He wished Lark’s call hadn’t come while the Secretary of Defense was in his office. Now he had to wait until they arrived at the safe house and called him again. He couldn’t believe how close Kemmerling had gotten. He’d hoped the shower photo was a ploy, meant to scare him, and hadn’t expected them to actually make a move on Lark. But not only had Kemmerling made a move, he’d gained a valuable advantage—he knew Jason was alive.
Matthew wanted them both here, now, where no one would threaten their safety again.
Cursing, he punched in the access code on the pad next to the door and impatiently submitted to the biometric checks before it let him through. He almost forgot to wipe his print off the scanner and cursed again. If only he could have been the one to go get Lark, he’d have ripped Kemmerling to pieces.
He smoothed his scowl. Despite confirming his survival, it had been the right thing, sending Jason. Ripping Isaac, while satisfying, was definitely not what Hummingbird needed right now.
Matthew reached his office and eased into his chair, spinning to stare out the window at the empty parking lot, busy street, and sparkling Potomac in the distance. The sun had begun to sink on the other side of the building, and it lent a rosiness to the picture that would normally be soothing. He inhaled and let his breath out slowly. This was his first chance in weeks to sit calmly with nothing and no one demanding his attention. Inevitably, that thought led him to the pile of paperwork on his desk and a mental to-do list that had grown steadily while he took care of big-picture items.
He was just about to give in and do some work when the phone rang. Not his cell, so it probably wasn’t Jason or Lark. He wasn’t sure what traffic would be like up in Boston, and how long it would take them to get to the safe house. But there wasn’t any reason for anyone to be calling him on the work line, either, with no agents on active duty tonight. He spun his chair and lifted the receiver.
“Madrassa.”
“Matt? Matthew? You’re there. Oh, I’m so glad.” The woman, whose voice he didn’t recognize, choked back what sounded like a sob.
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“It’s Ella. Ella Darron? I know, it’s been years, but I just… I’m sorry, I’m going about this all wrong.”
“Are you in danger, Ella?” He couldn’t imagine why else his sister-in-law would call him. They’d lost touch years ago, before Lark even graduated from high school. Ella and Kelly had never been close. While Kelly was a mom first, hobbyist second, and quite content with not working a real job, Ella had been an odd combination of driven businessperson and wacky artist. She was…forty-two now?
“No, no, I’m not in danger. Not immediate danger. I mean, not in danger at all. That’s not really what it is.”
Matthew stifled a sigh of irritation. “Then take a breath, calm down, and tell me what’s wrong.”
She inhaled noisily and took a few seconds to exhale. “I can’t tell you over the phone.”
“My lines
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