Operation Sheba Read Free Page B

of the Virginia nights. She had finally relaxed into the security of his house and the protectiveness of his arms.
    He set the coffee cups down on the table and studied Abigail’s face for a moment in the soft light. Her green eyes were closed, her focus tuned to the music she was listening to. She was pale this morning, and distracted. He couldn’t remember one time in their relationship he’d entered a room without her knowledge.
    He quietly slid a cup toward her and laid the Post next to it. Almost absently he noticed her bare arm under the glass top, her gun hanging loosely from her hand. His eyes did a double take. Snapping his head up, he stared past the open French doors and into his bedroom.
    The smell. Abigail had fired her gun.

    Julia knew the song Conrad had circled by heart. A year ago, she had listened to Sting’s A Thousand Years echo inside her head long after she had taken the headphones off and thrown the CD in the trash.
    In many ways, Julia was a prisoner of her mind. She had always been absorbed by thought. Analyzing details most people overlooked. The idiosyncrasy made her crazy sometimes—mystery novels, Clue, any Who Done It puzzle, was solved in a matter of minutes—but it also made her great at her job, whether behind a desk or in the field. She was good at troubleshooting, good at finding a common link and putting the pieces together. Good at figuring out who the bad guys were and more importantly how to nail them. She loved her job and had never sat back and watched the world go by.
    But once in awhile, she needed to escape her left brain and enjoy her right. Music was the key in the lock that opened the door and freed her from overanalyzing everything—normal things other people didn’t worry about.
    She had ached for Conrad in the days and months after the explosion. She had begged the powers that existed to bring him back. Offered her soul to any devil who could raise him from the dead. Just let me watch him sleep again. Hear him laugh. See his eyes peek at me over a hand of cards. Please.
    Wish granted. Conrad Flynn was alive. But he had betrayed her. Not a simple lie or a regrettable indiscretion. Those things she could forgive. No, Conrad’s betrayal had sent her to hell.
    And now Michael was sitting three feet away. She’d felt the slight tremor of the balcony as he’d approached the table and sat down. Keeping her eyes closed, she wondered how she could face him. The man who had reached down into hell and pulled her out. The man who had created a safe, relatively normal world for her. Michael’s world. Comfortable and predictable, it was a fairytale world that offered vestiges of hope.
    Under Julia’s closed lids, Michael’s face blurred into Con’s.

Chapter Four
    Scanning the sloping green hillside, Julia watched robins fluttering and hopping over the grass in search of their breakfast. The air was sweet with spring. Bringing her hand up, she laid the gun on the glass tabletop and pulled the ear buds out of her ears. Michael was sitting at the other end of the table, his newspaper and coffee untouched.
    “What happened, Abby?” His blue-gray eyes watched her intently. He was always so calm, so rock-steady. Handsome. Kind. Patient. Everything she wanted in a man.
    She shrugged and stared at the horizon. “Nightmare. When I woke up I thought someone was in the room. Remnants of the dream I guess. I apologize for the holes in the wall. I’ll have them fixed immediately.”
    She glanced at him to see his reaction. He nodded, but his brow creased with a frown. “Are you all right?”
    Am I? “I’m a little spooked.” She stood and forced a smile. “I haven’t had one like that in a long time.”
    Walking over to the balcony’s railing, she rubbed the goose bumps on her arms before leaning her stomach against the parapet. She knew this would be the last morning she spent here.
    What a shame . I was just starting to believe in Michael’s world . She took a deep breath