The Freelancer – Chapter 82

It was well past eight o’clock before we had, what we hoped, was our Plan B.  We knew Blackstone could strike at any time on Sunday, so we’d have to be ready for him tomorrow.  It was a long shot, but I thought our plan just might work.

We’d spent the better part of the day marking positions to station agents at every single gate of the airport.  DFW was enormous, making our task no small feat.  It would take far too much manpower to actually place someone at all of the places we’d selected, but it shouldn’t come down to that if things worked out according to the plan.

McNamara was a dead end.  He was still stuck in Denver.  I had to give the guy credit, though.  He tried to remote dial into the network from an airport terminal computer.  When that didn’t work, he made dozens of phone calls, only to find out the program that could do what we needed was wiped out by a computer virus earlier in the day.  I had little doubt that Blackstone or maybe even Jenna was behind that one.

The last option he gave us was to call each airline individually for the information, but it could take until Christmas to cut through all of their red tape without a warrant. And with what little information we had, getting a judge to sign off on what we needed didn’t look good.

A call to the high school confirmed all the men we were looking for should be attending the reunion the following day.  We decided we would find a way to isolate each of the men at the reunion and take them into protective custody.  That was the fastest way we could come up with to get the information we needed from them.  Then, we’d be looking at maybe a dozen different gates instead of the entire airport.  At that point, Collin would make one phone call and the team waiting at the airport would go to the prearranged positions for that gate.

I got home around nine-thirty and found an envelope taped onto my door.  Inside, I found a letter and key.  The letter was simple and to the point.  It read:

‘Come over when you get home.  It doesn’t matter how late.  I love you.  Jenna.’

I didn’t know what to expect, so I opened her door with caution.  In fact, I was surprised the door was locked at all.  The only time I remembered the door being locked since I met Jenna was the night I flipped the lock myself for privacy while I got her out of her robe. Had that really only been a week ago?

The condo was dark, which made me wish I was carrying my gun.  From the beginning, I hadn’t liked that I couldn’t carry my gun during this assignment because a gun-toting accountant would raise suspicions, even in Texas. Did she know I was onto her? Was this when she’d try to eliminate me?

It all snapped into focus for me. The darkness was supposed to lull me into a false sense of security and the locked door was meant to keep Trista or her sister from walking in on my murder. Now that we were getting close to zero hour, she didn’t need to stay close to me in order to keep tabs on my activities. They were close enough to their goal that they felt secure in eliminating me at this stage of the game.

So, this was the night FBI Special Agent Jackson Caldwell was meant to die? Good luck, babe. I’ve disarmed and subdued more physically commanding opponents in the past. Unless she pulled the trigger the moment she saw me, Jenna was in for a rude awakening, especially if she didn’t get off a kill shot before I could pounce.

I noticed the trail of rose petals on the floor leading down the hallway towards her bedroom. I guess she was still playing the girlfriend game on me.

The room was lit by at least thirty candles.  Jenna was asleep in a skimpy blue silk robe I hadn’t seen before.  From the wax drippings on the candles I could tell she had been waiting for me for quite a while.  So…she wasn’t going to kill me tonight? What the fuck?

After the initial jolt of adrenaline subsided, I let myself see the room through the eyes of my undercover persona. It was such a beautiful gesture that it made something dawn on me.  If everything was going to happen on Sunday, tomorrow night would be our last night together.  That realization hit me harder than I’d expected. I’d heard it said before and never thought it was possible, but I could feel the exact instant my heart broke.

Why couldn’t we both be who we said we were?

I kissed her softly on the lips and she stirred, the creamy skin of her breasts struggling underneath the blue silk, dark hair flowing against the pillow like strands of the purest silk.

“What’s with all this?  Are you trying to set your room on fire?”

She propped herself on her elbows and smiled up at me.

“It’s Friday.  You told me you’d know something about your transfer next week,” she said.  “I thought it was about time for me to start putting some friendly pressure on you.”

I was taken aback by her statement.  “Pressure for what?”

“I was serious about moving to D.C. with you.  I’m hoping to pressure you into considering it.”

“My God, I love you, Jenna,” I said, loosening my tie and joining her on the bed.

I’d learned a long time ago that nothing about life was fair.  My marriage was great for all of about a minute before Melissa figured out a way to steamroll over my heart.  It shouldn’t be any surprise to me that the first person I’d let into my battered heart would find out the best way to rip what was left to shreds.  When the case was over, there would be regrets and there would be liquor – lots of liquor.

But for just one more night, I couldn’t bear to live in reality.

I kissed every inch of her body, committing the silky feel of her skin, the sweet smell of her hair, and the way she looked at me like I was the only man alive to memory.  If memories were going to be all I was left with, I wanted them to be good.  Special.  When it was all said and done, when I was back in my D.C. apartment, I knew I might never be able to trust another woman as long as I lived.

Even if I could…there would never be another Jenna.

As we made love, I pushed everything from my mind.  She was playing a role and so was I.  The people we pretended to be were happy.  They were in love and their life together was just beginning.  Kids, house, dopey white picket fence – they could have all of it.  We, on the other hand, had nothing but pain in our future.  The only thing that stood between happiness and heartache was tonight.

Just tonight.

Jenna pulled me close.  “I love you, Jackson.  I love you so much…I can’t stand the thought of not being with you every day.”

“Me, either,” I whispered to her.  It was the God’s honest truth, too.

Damn, I hated that bastard who was getting his white picket fence.

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