23
Adam came into Becca’s bedroom at just after midnight to see her sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly at the wall. A single lamp was turned on and in the dim light he could see that she was pale, her face strained. She looked over at him and said, guilt weighing her down, heavy in her voice, “I still can’t believe it, Adam. Four people dead and it’s because of me.”
He quietly closed the bedroom door and leaned back against it, his arms crossed over his chest. Her feelings weren’t unexpected but it still made him angry. “Don’t be a damned fool, Becca. I’m the one who carries most of the blame because it was my fucking plan in the first place. What no one can figure out is how the bastard managed to walk right up to the guards outside the room, close enough to see the color of their eyes, and shoot them. Of course he used a silencer. Then he waltzed into the hospital room and kills the other two agents before they can react. To top it all off, he shot out the security camera. And poof—he’s gone, escaped, and no one can figure it out.
“Everyone knew he was coming, it was a trap, contingencies all covered, and sure enough he walked right into it, only it didn’t stop him. We lost. Whatever his disguise, it must have been something. My God, four people are dead.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, they’re gone. Damn him, how did he do it? What did he look like to make them lower their guard?”
She shook her head numbly. “Tellie Hawley still doesn’t know anything?”
Adam shook his head. “They’ve been studying all the security cameras all over the hospital, and they’ve spotted some men who might be possibles. I told him that didn’t make sense. Track down the little old ladies, track the folk on the cameras who no one in his right mind would take for Krimakov.” He moved away from the door and walked to the side of her bed. He leaned over and lightly touched his fingers to her cheek. “I came to check on you. I imagined you would be blaming yourself, and I was right. Stop it, Becca, just stop it. It was a good plan, a solid plan. Any fault for its failure comes right to my door, not yours.”
She turned her face into the palm of his hand. She whispered against his skin, “He doesn’t seem human, does he?”
“Oh, he’s human enough. I want him very badly, Becca. I want to kill him with my bare hands.”
“So does my father. I’ve never seen anyone so enraged, and yet his voice remained calm and controlled. But it was so cold, so deadly. I wanted to shriek and yell and put my fist through a wall, but he didn’t.”
“Control is very important to your father. It’s saved his life on several occasions and other people’s lives as well. He’s learned not to let emotion cloud his thinking.” He cupped her face in his hand. “I haven’t learned it yet, but I’m trying. A terrible thing happened, Becca, but please believe me, it wasn’t your fault. We’ll catch him. We have to catch him. We’ve both got to get some sleep.” He kissed her mouth, then immediately straightened. It was hard because he wanted to kiss her again, and not stop. He wanted to ease her back down and pull up that virginal nightgown of hers and get his mouth on every bit of her he could get naked. He wanted to make both of them forget the horror, for just a little while. But he knew he couldn’t. He took a step away from the bed. “Good night, Becca. Try to get some sleep, all right?”
She nodded mutely. The pain in her eyes, the god-awful guilt that was still burrowed deep inside her—he just couldn’t stand it. He kissed her again, hard and fast, and before he lost his head, he was out of her bedroom in a flash.
In the hallway, he was frowning, rage at Krimakov roiling away in his belly, when he walked straight into Thomas, who was just standing there, watching him, a thick dark brow arched.
Adam came to a dead stop. “Dammit, I didn’t touch her.”
“No, of course not. I never thought you did. You were in there to ease her guilt, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I doubt I was successful.”
“There’s enough guilt for all of us to wallow in,” Thomas said. “I’m going downstairs for a while. I’ve got some more thinking to do.”
“There isn’t any more thinking to do, there’s just worrying and second-guessing, all sorts of worthless shit like that. Wait a second—it just occurred to me that he’s got to be pissed, rattled. After all, he was expecting to find both you and Becca in that hospital room, but you weren’t there. He has to doubt himself now, his judgment, his take on things. He’s been meticulous up until now, but this time he wasn’t able to be thorough enough. He screwed up big-time. He was wrong. I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but whatever it is, he might make another mistake. He’s also got to contend with the fallout of his cold-blooded murder of four federal agents. They’ll mount the biggest manhunt in a decade. He can’t believe he’s so good he can just walk away from this, that he’s somehow immune from capture. We’re not alone in this anymore. Everyone and his aunt knows about him and what he is.”