Past Sins

Her gaze dropped to the phone in her hand.

Until thirty seconds ago.

“Can’t you at least have your dinner before you go?”

Jeffrey watched from the bedroom door, none too happy that she had to leave so abruptly.

“You’ll probably be there most of the night,” he pressed. “Even practicing psychologists need to eat, Olivia.”

She pulled the lightweight black sweater over her head and tugged it down her torso to cover the waistband of the black slacks she’d chosen. “I’ll be fine, Jeffrey. Don’t worry. I’ll pick up something at the hospital cafeteria.”

He continued to loiter in the doorway, looking unsettled and uncertain as to whether he should attempt to come up with a more compelling argument. “You’ll call when things calm down?” The way his posture relaxed told her he’d resigned himself to the inevitable.

It didn’t happen often, but occasionally one of her patients would do something radical like take a few too many pills just to make someone believe he or she had intended suicide. The attention received was the point. Episodes such as those were the rare occasions when Olivia had to attend to a patient in the hospital.

She ushered a smile across her lips for Jeffrey’s sake as she stepped into a comfortable pair of black flats that, fortunately, had rubber soles. “Of course I’ll call.” He always worried about her.

“I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

Olivia waited until he’d had sufficient time to get back to the kitchen before she returned to the walk-in closet. She closed the door and moved to the back of the closet. Dropping to her knees she dragged out several shoe boxes until she encountered the one stashed at the very back of her side of the closet, behind all the others. The one she hadn’t touched in three years.

Her respiration slowed as she removed the lid of the box. Her fingers wrapped around the sturdy butt of the Beretta 9mm. She tested its weight. Her pulse reacted. Without hesitation she snapped in a clip and tucked the Beretta into the waistband of her slacks at the small of her back. She grabbed the sound suppressor and an additional fifteen-round clip before putting the box back into place behind the others.

With the accessories slipped into the right pocket of her favorite black silk jacket, she pulled it on. Though southern California nights could get pretty damn cool, the jacket was more to camouflage her weapon than for comfort. She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and took a deep, steadying breath.

She hadn’t fired a weapon in thirty-seven months. Hadn’t participated in a covert maneuver in even longer.

She had to be out of her mind to go through with this.

But what choice did she have?

Whoever had given out her number—whoever knew she was still alive—had to be ferreted out and contained. She couldn’t pretend this away. Sheara had far too many enemies to take that route.

Olivia was at the front door before she considered that she couldn’t simply leave without saying goodbye. Jeffrey had to believe this was a routine call-in for a patient who’d been admitted to Cedars-Sinai’s psych ward for observation after a possible suicidal episode. The one or two other times she’d had to do this would serve as proper reasoning for her inability to offer a time she could be expected back home.

If she came home…

Jeffrey blew out the candles as she approached the dining room. He’d already cleared their plates and the basically untouched salad and entrée he’d gone to so much trouble to prepare.

“I’ll call you later to let you know how it’s going.” She told herself the statement was about consideration for his feelings. Work he could understand, even if it intruded at an inopportune time. But if she were totally honest with herself she’d admit that she’d gone this extra step to ensure he didn’t grow suspicious. The habit was deeply ingrained.

Just like old times. How many lies had she told to the people in her former life’s orbit? She’d have lied to her own mother had she not been long deceased. Her past life had been built on a careful framework of deception. Lies were all that had kept her alive.

She suppressed the shudder that rocked her insides.

“I’ll warm something up for you when you get back.”

“Thanks, Jeffrey.”

She had to go. Telling him not to wait up was pointless. He would…he always did.

As she walked out the front door and down the paved path to her car, all six senses alert to her surroundings, she couldn’t help thinking that nothing would ever be the same again.

Her new life was over.

The only question was…why?

The drive to Santa Monica took only forty-five minutes. Traffic was light. She didn’t hurry. She had plenty of time. Arriving early would afford her the opportunity to find a reconnaissance position.

The night security would be lurking about, but it wasn’t unusual for people, tourists in particular, to come to the pier at night to enjoy the moonlight on the water.

The park rides, the shops and the restaurants would all be closed by midnight but there would be plenty of lighting. She would need to take great care in selecting her position. If terminating this guy became necessary, she didn’t want any witnesses.

As darkness descended fully and the crowd thinned, Olivia took a position between a closed fast-food tourist trap and a bait and tackle shop. The smell of overcooked hot dogs and frying oil lingered in the air.

During the day, the pier was crowded with locals as well as tourists. As midnight approached, only a lone soul or two lingered on the massive wooden pier. A few others walked along the beach.

Olivia waited in the shadows, analyzing anything that moved. She saw her target’s arrival from a considerable distance as he passed under a light en route from the parking area to the wide planked boardwalk. Khaki shorts, white T-shirt and red baseball cap, just as she’d requested.

She couldn’t make out his face yet. He strolled along somewhat hesitantly as if this might have been his first visit to the pier or maybe he was just afraid of being in a strange place after dark. The pockets of his shorts didn’t bulge, indicating he carried nothing about which she needed to be concerned. What appeared to be a video-camera bag hung on his right shoulder.

As he unknowingly neared her position, he paused and turned all the way around, evidently looking for anyone who might be watching him. With his T-shirt tucked neatly inside the waistband of his shorts, it was obvious that he wasn’t carrying a weapon as she was.

When she’d made out the details of his face she confirmed that she hadn’t met him before, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trouble.

When he moved just in front of her position, she stepped out of the shadows. “Mr. Soderbaum.”

He gasped and whipped around to face her. Even in the dim lighting she saw his face pale. “Sheara?” He was either a very good actor or scared witless.

Before she began her questioning, she patted him down to ensure he wasn’t wearing a wire or any other sort of listening device. With the more undetectable microfiber jobs, it wasn’t an easy task, so she took her time. She might not be in the business anymore, but she tried to keep up with the latest gadgets.

When she’d satisfied herself that he was clean, she asked, “Is the bag for me?”

He nodded jerkily. “Yes. Sorry.” He swung the camera case off his shoulder and offered it to her.

Olivia accepted the case and opened it for a quick peek. Hundreds of crisp twenty-dollar bills were stacked inside, but that wasn’t her concern at the moment. She checked for tracking and listening devices and found none. Whether that was good or bad, she wasn’t precisely sure.

“Excellent.”

“Do you need to count it?” He glanced around nervously. “What if someone sees us?”

“I’ll count it later.” She closed the case and slung it over her shoulder.

He nodded. “Of course. If it’s not all there you won’t go through with the job.”

She ignored his comment. “Before we go any further, I have a few questions for you, Mr. Soderbaum.”

Uncertainty claimed his expression once more. “I thought I wouldn’t have to answer any questions. I just give you the money and information and the job gets done.” He wasn’t as old as she’d anticipated. Forty maybe. And right now he looked thoroughly terrified.

“Not those kinds of questions, Mr. Soderbaum,” she assured him. “I never accept an assignment without verifying certain things, like who recommended me.”

“I don’t know his real name. I got the recommendation in a chat room.”

Man, this guy was stupider than he looked. “You’re lucky I’m not a federal agent, Mr. Soderbaum.”

Taken aback and obviously startled, he asked, “Why would…oh.” Realization appeared to dawn on him then. Soliciting murder was a serious crime, usually carried a life sentence. The muscles of his throat struggled as he attempted to swallow. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m not.” That part was definitely true. She opted to get straight to the heart of the matter before pushing for his source. If she made this guy too nervous he might balk. There were certain elements she needed to know and the identity of the target was one of them. “Why don’t we get down to business?”

He nodded, the movement as uncoordinated as a bobble-head doll’s.

“I’ll need the specifics on your target.”

“Of course.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out what looked like a couple of folded sheets of paper. He hesitated before giving them to her.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Soderbaum?”

“You don’t look like a killer,” he commented quietly.

She leaned closer to him, making him catch his breath all over again. “Have you ever met a killer?”

He shook his head with enough vigor to do internal damage.

“Perhaps you’ve met several and simply didn’t know it.”

His eyes widened, then he blinked twice as he appeared to comprehend that a response to her statement wasn’t necessary. “How do you usually, ah—” He cleared his throat. “You know, take care of the situation?”

“Do you have a preferred method?”

“Not at all. I just want it done.”

“I understand.”

He hunched his shoulders and let them fall in a shrug of uncertainty. “How long will it take?”

“A few days. I’ll need time to assess the target and to select the best time and method for elimination.”

Ned Soderbaum gulped.

Keeping a close eye out for anyone else who might attempt to advance upon their position, she let him hang on to his papers a moment longer and pressed him for the crucial details she needed. “Mr. Soderbaum, before we can seal this deal, I will need the name of your source. I don’t accept clients without verifying their source.”

He tried to hold her gaze but couldn’t handle the pressure, so he stared at a covered rack of postcards instead. “He’s not that difficult to find. He’s always in the chat rooms. I don’t know his real name, but his screen name is Phantom.”

A new wave of shock went through her. “You’re certain about that?” The shock abruptly started to evolve, heading toward fury. This had to be a setup, wire or no wire. Her instincts moved to a higher state of alert in anticipation of coming complications. The necklace she wore felt hot against her skin.

Her client nodded. “I’ve talked to him several times. He said you were the best. A perfect record of kills.”

Olivia struggled to conceal her building anger. Allowing him to take note of her out-of-control emotions would be a mistake. “Once I’ve confirmed that information I’ll set things in motion.”

“Excellent.” Soderbaum glanced around nervously. “Here.” He held out his papers. “This is the information you’ll need.”

She accepted the folded pages. “You understand that once this assignment has been set in motion there is no backing out. You can’t change your mind.”

He wet his lips. “Yes, I understand. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

“All right.” Olivia unfolded the paper and studied the full head shot of her target. What her eyes saw made her sway, but she braced herself before her client could pick up on her stunned surprise. Focusing intently to ensure her hands didn’t shake, she shuffled to the next page where the target’s name, address and other stats were listed.

The name and address matched the face but she couldn’t analyze that right now. Her movements deliberate, she refolded the pages and slid them into her jacket pocket.

“I’ll post a personal ad in the Chicago Tribune when the assignment is completed. The ad will contain a number for you to call for the final instructions on depositing the remainder of the fee. If you fail to make the deposit, you’ll be my next target. There won’t be any place you can hide from me.”

Doubt clouded his expression again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the deposit, but how will I know it’s you?”

She eased into the shadows. “You’ll know.”

Olivia retreated behind the surveillance deck the police used. The route she chose was dark and she was pretty damn sure her client wouldn’t attempt to follow her.

Thankfully he didn’t.

When she reached the parking area, she remained out of sight until Soderbaum climbed into his vehicle and drove away.

She got into her Audi and drove back to Hollywood.

She needed some distance…some big-time perspective.

After three long years of evading the past, it had come back to haunt her.

Sheara, aka Goddess of Death, had been awakened by an old enemy. One she would not allow to betray her a second time. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Whatever his reason for intruding on her new life, she would stop him. Hell, he shouldn’t even know she was alive.

Forcing her attention on the road, she made the journey back to her house on Mount Olympus in record time, despite her evasive route. She had fully anticipated a tail. If there had been one, she’d lost him.

She parked behind Jeffrey’s car and went inside, locking the door and resetting the alarm.

Jeffrey was asleep when she entered the bedroom. She didn’t need a crystal ball or a hidden camera to know he had waited up until his body could no longer deny its need for sleep. Even as frustrated as he must have been when she didn’t call to let him know how things were going, he’d likely waited up far longer than was reasonable because he cared. Something else she couldn’t bear to think about just now.

She didn’t bother with a light, just tucked her loaded weapon beneath her pillow and stripped off her clothes before climbing into bed naked. The subtle scent of Jeffrey’s aftershave felt familiar and somehow comforting, as did the contrast of the cool sheets and his warm skin.

She lay there, the minutes ticking slowly by, wondering how this could possibly be happening. Sleep was out of the question at this point. She had to be ready for anything. Why would he do this? The idea that jealousy might play a role made her furious all over again. How the hell was she supposed to handle this? She had no contacts…nothing.

If she located the Phantom again he would be the one she would execute. Not an innocent target used to draw her back into the line of fire.

Gritting her teeth was the only way to hold back the litany of raging expletives hovering at the back of her throat. He had no right to do this. She’d already given up far too much because of him. The urge to jerk the necklace loose and throw it as far as she could was a palpable thing…but some idiotic, vulnerable female part of her wouldn’t allow her to break that link.

He had given it to her.

A soft ring of the telephone shattered the silence. She reached for the bedside extension before the second ring could disturb Jeffrey.

“Hello.” She kept her voice low, barely a whisper.

Silence.

“Hello.” Still nothing. She didn’t immediately hang up. Just listened. Someone was there—she could sense the presence—but he didn’t speak. He never did.

Then came the click signaling the end of the call.

Was the fact that the call had come only minutes after her return from meeting with Soderbaum significant? Possibly. She hung up the receiver. But this was not her first anonymous call. It was always the same. The phone would ring. She would answer and the caller would remain silent as if the single word she had uttered was the only reason he’d called—to hear her voice. There was no pattern to the calls. They came when they came. She had no idea who the caller was, but she wondered…foolishly.

Just as she often felt someone watching her.

And now she knew why.

He was back.

She couldn’t begin to imagine his objective just yet, but he would have one. Her fingers toyed with the one token she had kept from her past as her gaze drifted to the man sleeping next to her. She could not allow her past sins to intrude on his present. He had no idea who or what she had been three years ago. She had to stop this plunge toward disaster before Jeffrey got hurt.

She closed her eyes and summoned the image of the target Ned Soderbaum had given her a ten-thousand-dollar retainer to eliminate.

Why on earth would anyone want Jeffrey dead?

Chapter 3

Unable to sleep, by 4:00 a.m. Olivia was on the Internet attempting to track down one Ned Soderbaum. It wasn’t easy since she had to do this the hard way, without any useful contacts.

She tugged up the shoulder of her silk robe, annoyed that it kept slipping down. Or maybe just annoyed. Who would have thought that after three years she would need this kind of information? It wasn’t as if a dead woman could attempt to log into the CIA’s database without causing a stir.

Nope. She was on her own. Even if her old user name and password worked, she wouldn’t risk revealing herself. Not if she wanted to stay alive. Apparently one too many people already knew she was alive. Why contact her now? After three years? She was too much of a realist to believe that the resurrection of her old persona was simply a coincidence, especially considering the target.

Olivia shifted the mouse and clicked, sending Google into yet another search. While she waited for the results she glanced at her weapon lying on the desk in front of the flat-panel monitor.

A cold sweat formed on her skin. Her heart rate jumped into a faster rhythm.

She hadn’t taken a human life in over three years. Could she still do it if the necessity presented itself?

A shaky breath rushed past her lips, making her doubt her ability to accomplish the feat she had once performed with scarcely a thought. That had been a different life…she’d been a different person.

The search results spilled across the screen, drawing her attention back to her task. One or two Soderbaums. Lots of Neds. But no Ned Soderbaum of Chicago. Her gut told her the guy didn’t exist. But she had to be sure. The proof was right in front of her. No businessman with enough clout to own his own jet would be thriving without at least one hit on Google.

She could hack into the Social Security Administration’s system as one final stab. She’d already looked at the Illinois DMV database and found nothing. What was one more infraction? She would cover her tracks pretty well, going through an anonymous user ID on Hotmail. Still, a state-level intrusion like the DMV records wouldn’t readily evoke an all-out search for the perpetrator, but a federal breach would bring on the big dogs. Homeland Security’s Net Defense Unit would follow the inevitable tracks until they located this very computer.

It was a chance she’d have to take.

A few more clicks of the keys and she had her answer. No Ned Soderbaum in Illinois, period.

The man had either lied about his name or he didn’t exist. If he’d simply lied about his name, that wasn’t such a big deal, but if he was using an alias, that was a whole different matter. Not using his real name at the moment she asked would have been about fear. Using an alias carried the idea of premeditation, a strategic maneuver to mislead her. Which screamed of a setup.

Still, if this was an Agency-sanctioned operation, why hadn’t they done their homework and given the guy a history to go with the alias? Ensuring a cover was verifiable was Spy 101 stuff.

There was only one answer. Because they wanted her to know she’d been made.

Or…the real threat could be to Jeffrey, and whoever had sanctioned the operation had no idea that research scientist Dr. Jeffrey Scott lived with a former CIA assassin. That didn’t make sense, either, since Soderbaum, or whoever the hell he was, had used her former code name…had mentioned an old enemy. Not to mention that in order for that concept to fly, she was back to the idea of a coincidence and she was a total nonbeliever in the theory. Not when she was the hired assassin.

She knew of only one way to get to the bottom of this.

Olivia leaned back in her chair and let go a heavy breath. She’d have to contact Hamilton.

The name ricocheted through her. David Hamilton had been and still was the deputy director of the CIA’s field operations. If an op was under way he would know about it. But why hadn’t he warned her if she was in danger?

After all, the fact that she was even alive was his doing. Why fail her now?

Too many questions, not nearly enough answers.

It would be daylight soon. There were things she had to do. She grabbed her Beretta and strode into the bedroom. Jeffrey still slept soundly. After placing the weapon into her handbag, she sat down on his side of the bed.

“Jeffrey.” She shook him gently, then turned on the bedside lamp. “Jeffrey, we need to talk.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she would get him to go along with her plan, but she had to convince him somehow. Both their lives likely depended upon his cooperation. Though at this point she couldn’t say for an absolute certainty whether this was about him or her. He was a research scientist at a top pharmaceutical corporation. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone had targeted him for some reason related to his work, government affiliated or not. Still, the involvement of her former identity had her leaning more toward something far less straightforward.

The moment his eyes opened he took note of the time on the alarm clock on the bedside table not twelve inches from his head. “It’s early.” He shifted his groggy attention to Olivia. “Is something wrong? How’s your patient?”

With a weary smile tacked into place, she lied, “He’s stable and thoroughly apologetic for causing the fuss.” Evidently Jeffrey thought she’d only just returned from the hospital. Remnants of the lie she’d just told soured in the back of her throat.

Jeffrey scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Aren’t they always? Did you just get in?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been sitting here for hours thinking.” That part wasn’t entirely untrue.

He eased up onto his elbows and eyed her a bit more closely. “Something is wrong.”

A barely discernible lift of her shoulders gave him the hesitant impression she intended. She knew Jeffrey better on certain levels than she’d ever known any man. She discerned what made him tick, how he would respond in any given situation. The nine months they’d shared, coupled with her extensive training on how to analyze a target, ensured she could read him like the proverbial open book. Though she would definitely categorize him as passive, sensitive, definitely a beta male, he was intensely protective of her feelings.

The quintessential nerd in school, he’d suffered at the hands of bullies during childhood, making him ultrasensitive to the needs of others. Maybe that was one of the reasons she’d been so drawn to him. He was the exact opposite of who and what she had been. Kind, patient, overly considerate even. She was counting on those very qualities right now.

“I think I need to get away.”

Concern stamped out the last remnants of sleepiness in his eyes. “Are you thinking of a change in our relationship?”