Page 114 of Critical Doubt

"Vance may not stop with this attack."

"I suspect he'll be occupied with more pressing matters than trying to take me out. Once he realizes this failed, he'll disappear. He has a lot of money and connections all over the world. You need to find him before he leaves the States."

As her father spoke so pragmatically and coldly, she couldn't help but wonder what he was really feeling. "This must be difficult for you. Colonel Vance was one of your best friends."

His expression hardened. "I obviously did not know him as well as I thought I did. He wasn't worth saving. I don't care what happens to him now."

She believed him. Her father certainly had the ability to cut someone from his life and move on, but despite his words she had to believe that Vance's betrayal had hurt him. Not that he'd accept her sympathy. Or that he'd even want to acknowledge that emotion in front of her. So, she changed the subject. "If you won't do a safe house, maybe you should go back to Fort Benning."

"I might do that," he conceded. "By the way, you never told me how Paul and Todd faked their deaths. They had to have had help."

"They did, and you're not going to like my answer."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ryker heard his phone buzz,and he suspected it was Savannah again. She was probably pissed that he'd bailed on her, but after his meeting with Todd, and an irritating run-in with Agent Paxton, he'd needed to get out of the FBI office. Once he'd left the building, he'd just kept walking. He'd finally found his way back to his truck and after searching for an explosive device, he had found the courage to open the door and turn on the engine. Thankfully, nothing had happened, and he had been more than happy to get behind the wheel. He'd needed to exert some control over his life and that was the first step.

Then he'd driven to Mason's townhouse and had found getting inside surprisingly easy. For a smart man, who was probably involved in weapons smuggling, Mason had taken very few precautions with his personal living situation. Ryker had been able to guess the code in less than ten minutes. Of course, that was also because he knew the six lottery numbers that Mason had played repetitively for the seven years they'd served together.

As he stepped into the entry, he paused to listen for a moment. According to the FBI, Mason was in surgery, so there shouldn't be anyone in the house. He was a little surprised the FBI wasn't here yet, but when he'd left the building, they'd been talking about getting a search warrant. Hopefully, that would take a little more time, and he could complete the search on his own.

With his weapon in his hand, he made his way through the two-story, two-bedroom home, noting the cleanliness of every room, and the neat organization of the shelves in both the living room and the kitchen. Some adjustments had been made to the house to accommodate Mason's injuries. The doors allowed for a wheelchair. The bathroom shower had been modified. And the lower shelves in the kitchen were all filled while the upper ones were empty. He knew that Mason was a renter, not an owner, but for a man who allegedly had financial problems, Mason was living quite well.

As he wandered around the house, he found little in the way of personal items. Mason had no photos on the walls, no reminders of his past life in the army. The bills on the desk in the living room were all from medical providers and the usual array of utility companies.

With a sigh, he stood in the middle of the room and wondered what the hell he was going to do next. And why he'd come here alone.

He'd been ignoring his phone ever since he'd gotten the first text from Savannah. He knew she was angry that he'd left the building without telling her where he was going. But he was still glad he'd left. With Parisa's team taking over the case, he and Savannah were going to be sidelined. Or at least, he'd be put on ice. She might be able to stay in the thick of things, but they wouldn't want a former Army Ranger and a former teammate of their group of suspects around to muck things up. However, he was starting to regret leaving Savannah behind.

Being alone wasn't really getting him anywhere. He was missing the hell out of Savannah and feeling like crap, because he knew he'd probably worried her and disappointed her. She would think he didn't respect her, that he didn't think she could handle herself, that she wasn't capable of helping him, and that wasn't it at all.

He'd never respected anyone more. He also cared about her.

He might even love her…

That thought caught his breath and sent his heart racing. He'd cared about women, but he didn't think he'd ever really been in love.

But Savannah…Damn!She was everything he'd ever wanted and more.

He'd let her go the first time.Was he really going to push her away the second time?

He knew the answer to that question, because he'd already done it. He'd left her behind so he could be alone. He'd made up a lot of excuses in his head. He needed air. The bells were ringing. Todd and the others had betrayed him, so he needed to think. The FBI didn't want to work with him.Why should he work with them?

But it was all bullshit. He'd left because that's what he always did. Todd had been right about that. Ever since he'd gotten hurt, he'd been running away. And he'd never run away before. He'd always stood his ground, even in the face of unspeakable fear. It wasn't an enemy that had brought him down; it was his own mind.

And now he wasn't just running from friends, he was running from the most incredible woman, who for some unimaginable reason wasn't at all scared off by his issues or the fact that every time they were together, she was fighting for her life.

He had to do better. Not just with her, with everyone and everything else. No more running. No more standing alone.

But first, he had to get those weapons back. He knew the guys better than anyone. He should be able to figure out their plan, where they would go, what they would do next. He just needed to think. He couldn't stand the thought of those weapons ending up in enemy hands. So, he'd take one more pass through Mason's house to make sure he wasn't missing anything. Then he'd call Savannah back, plead for forgiveness, and hope she hadn't finally decided she was done with him.

As he returned to the living room, his gaze landed on the small trash can by the bookcase. There were two coffee cups tossed in the garbage. His pulse leapt. Maybe they could get some DNA off the cups. One or both of them might reveal who else had been in Mason's house. But as he took the cups out of the trash, and set them on the floor, his heart began to race even faster at the sight of the piece of folded paper in the bin. It was a paper airplane.

His head spun with images of Leo making those airplanes out of any piece of paper he could find.Had Mason taken up that hobby?Or was Leo…He couldn't finish the thought.

His ears started to ring.Not now, he silently pleaded. But the bells were chiming, and Leo's name was echoing off each ring. He put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, wincing at the strobe lights going off in his head. He was losing touch with reality. He was going into his head. And he wasn't sure if, this time, he would come back out.

The bells had never been this loud, this painfully piercing. They were followed by explosions, flashes of light, and images from his past: the guys were playing soccer to while away the time; wading through knee-deep water on a night raid; patrolling some small desert town, trying to talk to the locals who didn't want them there. He could see that village square, the coffee stand where they'd grab a cup before heading back to the barracks.

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