CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

Trace had a nice little home in Monrovia, California, up near the mountains. It had been built in 1941 and he had taken the time to restore it when he’d moved in a few years ago. It had beautiful hardwood floors, sleek walls, and a state of the art kitchen because he liked to cook. Cooking reminded him of his grandmother when he was young and all of the comforts of her kitchen. He liked the peace he felt as he broiled fish or made a fancy casserole because it took him back to his childhood. His brothers reaped the benefits because, as a single man, he really had nobody to cook for other than himself and his brothers.

Entering the house through the side door on the driveway, he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and continued into the hallway. His master bedroom was big, new, and had a big, marble bathroom. The room, like the house, was sparingly furnished because a bachelor lived there. He only had enough in the house to make it comfortable, but he had sleek, new, flat screen televisions in every room, including the kitchen. Media gadgets were his vice.

As he began pulling off his clothes so he could get into the shower, his cell phone rang. Picking up the phone, he glanced at the incoming number. It was familiar, but one he hadn’t seen in a very long time. In fact, he didn’t particularly like seeing it at all. After a pause, perhaps one of reluctance, he sighed and answered the call.

“Rocklin,” he said.

There was a slight hesitation on the other end. “Trace? It’s Harry.”

Trace was already unhappy. There was no good reason why Harry King should be calling him. His association with Harry had ended the day he resigned from the CIA two years ago. He had a sinking feeling as he sat heavily on his bed.

“Harry,” he greeted steadily. “It’s been a long time.”

“Long enough,” Harry replied. A brilliant man in his fifties, and African-American, he had a voice like James Earl Jones. “Sorry it couldn’t be longer. How are things with you out there in California?”

“Great,” Trace replied. “How are things in D.C.?”

“The same,” Harry replied. “This shit never changes.”

“So why the call? What’s going on?”
Trace wasn’t going to beat around the bush. The man had called for a reason. On the other end of the line, he could hear Harry sigh.

“Well,” he said, “we’ve been hearing things that may or may not relate to you. I thought I’d better let you know so you’re at least on your guard.”

“What things?”

“Nevredev,” he replied, somewhat quietly. “That old subject is rearing its head again.”

Trace sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s a dead subject to me, Harry,” he said. “I’m not going to get back into it.”

“You may not have a choice.”

Trace’s jaw ticked. “It’s over,” he said. “It was a botched assassination attempt that got my best friend killed. I’m done with all of this and you know it.”

Harry’s voice was steely. “You are a former covert operations agent, Trace,” he said. “You will never be done with this and you know it. All of those men you assassinated in order to further or protect the interests of the United States are embedded in your fabric. They’re a part of you and you’re a part of them. All of the operations you have accomplished and the people you used along the way… all of them are still a part of you. That will never change. You were down and dirty with the best of them and there’s a reason they called you The Eliminator. You were the best field agent we had and you walked away from it when Marcos was killed. I’m sorry for that, Trace, you know I am, but walking away from it didn’t erase it from your life. Do I really have to explain this to you?”

“This line is not secure, Harry.”

“To hell with it!” Harry snapped. “I don’t care if it’s secure or not. Now, do you want to hear this or not?”

“I don’t.”

“That’s too bad because I’m going to tell you, anyway,” he replied, calming. “Trace, Nevredev’s daughter has become a powerful lord in her own right. Nathalia Nevredevova has worked hard to rise to power over the past couple of years to fill the void left by her father.”

“Her father isn’t dead,” Trace interrupted softly, “hence, the botched assassination.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Her father’s on life support in a hospital in Kiev, but his absence has left a hole at the top of their organization that Nathalia has worked hard to fill. Rumor has it she’s gunning for you in revenge for what you did to her father.”

Trace was quiet a moment, mulling over the information. More than anything, he simply felt depressed.

“They never knew my real name,” he said softly. “They don’t know anything about me.”

“But they know your face. They have spies all over the goddamn place. Bribery works wonders. If they really want to find out who you truly are, they can do it.”

“You think they’ll go that far?”

“I think they might. Maybe they’re already on to you for all we know. Her father isn’t doing so well. There’s talk of pulling the plug. If that old man dies, half of the Ukrainian underground is going to be gunning for you.”

“All of this happened over two years ago. Why now?”

“Nathalia never had the power until now,” Harry sighed. “The other generals in the organization didn’t care about what you did to Nevredev because it gave them the opportunity to move into his spot. But now she’s moved into his spot and she wants you dead. You know Nathalia, Trace; you used her to get to her old man. You know how she is.”

Trace grunted softly, with regret, with some impatience. “So what do I do?”

“Go to the Ukraine and take out Nathalia.”

“Is that my only choice?”

“It would solve the problem. There are a lot of people who would like to see her gone and would probably thank you for it.”

Trace hung his head, eventually running a hand through his dirty hair in a laborious and thoughtful gesture. “What are my other options?”

“I’m going to suggest changing your name and moving to the Yukon.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Then you need to be on your toes.”

“You’ll keep me posted?”

“You know I will,” Harry said. Then, he paused. “Any chance I can get you here to D.C. for a full briefing?”

“If it looks like the threat is real, you can.”

“I think it is. Can you make a trip out here next week?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Trace hung up. He didn’t want to hear any more. He just sat there for several long moments. He didn’t even know what he was feeling other than disappointment. He ran a weary hand over his face; dear God, did it ever go away? The anxiety? The feeling of being hunted day and night? He thought he’d been doing so well at assimilating back to a normal life with his parents and brothers. He had a job that didn’t require him to put bullets in people. He’d just met a woman that….

Kiki. Trace glanced quickly at the clock, seeing that he had little time to shower and get over to the restaurant. He thought of her beauty, her wit, her giggly charm. God, he just loved everything about her. He’d never felt like that in his life. And now this. Now he just felt sick.

Trace jumped into the shower, scrubbing down as his mind whirled with the news. When he should have been thinking of the threat against him, he could only think of Kiki. He wondered if she’d go to Washington with him. He would sure like her to. As he quickly shaved, he tried to think of a good story to give her as to why he had to go and why he wanted her to come. As he was thinking of her, the house, and her silly daughters, he thought of the incident that morning. He thought of the dead burglar in the bathroom doorway and….

… he had been a white male. In that neighborhood, a white male was an anomaly. The demographic in that neighborhood was mostly African-American and Hispanic. Trace paused as he rinsed off his face, thinking of the figure he’d seen. It had been a brief flash, as he hadn’t really stopped to take a good look, but he distinctly remembered seeing a young, white male.

He rinsed off his face. The burglar had smashed the downstairs window to get in. It had been a sloppy entry. A professional…

… oh, God… a professional….

Paranoia gripped him. If he was the suspicious type, and he was, he might think that the break-in was no accident. Maybe Harry’s call had come twelve hours too late; maybe he was already being watched and, along with him, they were watching Kiki. Maybe the guy broke in to kidnap her or interrogate her, not rob her. Maybe he spoke with a Ukrainian accent. But he was dead so they’d never know.

He turned the shower off, thinking. He struggled not to be freaked out but it was difficult. All he could think of was getting out of Pasadena, like Harry had suggested, but he knew that wouldn’t solve the problem. If he left, those in pursuit would go after his family and, possibly, after Kiki, trying to figure out where he had gone. No, running wasn’t the answer. If the Ukrainians were already here, then Trace needed to be here to protect those he loved. If he had to take them all on, he would. And he would win. He wasn’t going to let someone else he loved fall victim to that gang of thugs.

Especially Kiki.

 

***

 

The log cabin-style restaurant that was a staple in Pasadena for fifty years was packed on this Friday night. Trace entered the dim restaurant with the sawdust all over the floor, his gaze searching out any familiar faces. Immediately, he spied Jesse standing with three women, but it was so crowded that he really couldn’t get a good look at the women. As he drew closer, he could see that Jesse and the women were standing in a little group. Embry and Esme were partially facing him, while the third woman had her back to him. When Trace got a good look at the rear view of the third woman, he had to take a breath.

Kiki was clad in a stunning black dress, rather short, but it displayed the best legs he had ever seen. Her hair was long and silky and when she turned around to look at him, he was struck speechless for a moment. The dress was sexy without being slutty and she was absolutely a knock-out in it. He felt warm and giddy at the sight of her.

“Hey there,” she said, smiling. “So you decided to join us?”

He grinned in return, realizing he very much wanted to kiss her. He settled for putting a casual hand on her back in greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Time got away from me. Is everybody hungry?
“Starving,” Embry said. She had cleaned up well and was dressed in a skirt and cute blouse. “I’ve always loved this place.”

“Then let’s get a table and eat.”

The girls rushed towards the hostess stand with Jesse close behind. It afforded Trace and Kiki a few moments of alone time and he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“You look amazing,” he said softly. “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

She smiled modestly. “Not lately.”

“Then I apologize. I’ll make sure to tell you every single day.”

He had her by the elbow as they were shown to a table. The place was a steakhouse and everyone had some kind of beef on their plate. Jesse, a divorced father with two small girls, took to Embry and Esme and spent the evening chatting it up with them while Trace and Kiki sat conspicuously close to each other, talking softly between them and, on occasion, joining in on Jesse and Embry’s conversation.

They ate, they drank, and generally had a marvelous time. In fact, when it was over and the bill was paid, the girls bolted up and headed for the parking lot as the grown-ups moved a little more slowly.

“Well,” Jesse said, as they stepped away from the table, “I usually charge five bucks an hour for babysitting but I’ll waive my fee for tonight.”

Trace had his hand on the small of Kiki’s back as they headed out of the restaurant. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Jesse cocked an eyebrow. “I’m talking about the fact that you two were out on a date while I watched the kids,” he said. “Next time, you two go to dinner somewhere and I’ll take the girls to a pizza place.”

Kiki grinned. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Jesse snorted and rolled his eyes. “You two make a very cute couple.”

He moved towards the front door, snorting and giggling ironically as Trace and Kiki watched him go. Trace looked at Kiki.

“He was mostly right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to share you.”

Kiki was torn between remorse and not particularly caring. “He isn’t mad, is he?”

Trace shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. “But I’m going to be hearing about this for the next week.”

They grinned at each other, knowingly and perhaps a bit coyly, as they exited the restaurant and headed out into the dark parking lot. Jesse and the girls were already at the cars, chatting softly under the mercury vapor lights.

Now came the part about heading home. Trace knew he would be going to Kiki’s house tonight and her girls were there, so it seemed to him that somebody had better say something before he showed up and the girls had no idea why he was there. He glanced at Kiki as they approached the cars but she simply smiled at him, coyly, which set his heart to racing. He was rather interested in that coy look. But he was more interested in making sure Esme and Embry wouldn’t be surprised when he showed up at their door and a thought occurred to him.

“Ladies,” he said as they walked up to them. He crooked his finger at the girls. “A word, please?”

Curious, Esme and Embry went to him. Kiki tried to follow but he held out a hand, holding her off, as he took the girls a few feet away. Then he began speaking to them in a low voice as Kiki and Jesse stood by her car, watching the scene curiously.

“I wonder what he’s saying to them,” Kiki said. She glanced at Jesse. “He’s not plotting against me, is he? Pulling them into his evil plans?”

Jesse laughed. “I wouldn’t put anything past him,” he said. “He’s probably plotting a coup. He’s been trained for that kind of thing, you know. Didn’t he tell you he worked for the CIA?”

Kiki nodded, watching Trace as he muttered to her girls, who seemed to be taking whatever he was saying very seriously.

“He did,” she said. “He said he was an analyst. We really didn’t talk much about it, though.”

Jesse’s humorous demeanor faded. There was an odd gleam to his eye. “Is that what he told you?” he asked. “An analyst?”

Kiki caught on to his tone of voice and turned to look at him. “Yes,” she said. “Why? That wasn’t the truth?”

Jesse nodded quickly. “It’s the truth,” he conceded, his gaze drifting to his brother. “But… well, don’t ever tell him that I mentioned it, but if you’re going to get involved with him, then you should know that I personally think it was much more than that.”

Kiki was very interested. “What more?”

Jesse shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, now seemingly struggling for words. “Just… more. I’ve said too much already. Don’t tell him I said anything, okay?”

Kiki shook her head. “I won’t, but now you have me curious,” she said. “Did he do something else for the CIA that he’s not telling me about?”

Jesse shoved his hands into his pockets, giving a sigh. He’d started this conversation so he figured he should say what he’d meant in the first place. “Honestly, I really don’t know,” he said. “He was in D.C. for a lot of years, but there were times that he would just drop off the grid for months at a time. Personally, I don’t think he was an analyst. I think he was in the field.”

“Doing what?”

“What does the CIA usually do?”

“Spy?”

Jesse nodded as if she’d hit the nail on the head. “Spy,” he agreed. “And other things. Assassinations and stuff. My brother is a crack shot. You’ve never seen anyone shoot as good as he can. And the way he thinks… maybe you’ve picked up on it, but he’s two steps ahead of everyone else. Always. He plans things out to the last detail. That’s what makes him so good at the construction game, too. He doesn’t miss a thing. And sometimes… well, I know it’s crazy to think this, but sometimes he just has this look on his face.”

“What kind of look?”

“Like he’s a hunter. Or being hunted.”

Kiki pondered that for a moment, moving her attention from Jesse back to Trace, who was now grinning at her children, who were giggling and nodding their heads. “I haven’t seen that part of him yet,” she said. “He just seems like a nice, normal guy to me.”

“He is,” Jesse said quickly. “But… oh, hell, I’m really going to get into trouble if he knows I’ve said all of this, but he had a hard time back east with his wife and all. I think that’s why he came back to Pasadena, just to get away from that life he lived on the east coast. I think meeting you was really fortuitous because he’s seemed kind of lost and depressed for a long time. But since meeting you, he seems a lot happier. That means a lot to my family, just so you know. Even if you are Jimmy Delohr’s little sister.”

He meant it as a joke and Kiki grinned. But her gaze was still on Trace, who by now realized she was looking at him. He reached out and gently tapped Esme on the arm and said something, and both girls turned to see their mother looking at them. All three of them then approached her with various smirks on their faces. Kiki cocked an eyebrow at the group.

“You all look like the cat that has swallowed the canary,” she said. “Why the goofy expressions? What world-domination plan have you been cooking up?”

In reply, Esme reached out and put her arm around her mother, pulling her towards the car. “Come on, Mom,” she said. “Let’s head home. We have to talk to you.”

Kiki looked over her shoulder at Trace, who simply smiled and waved at her. He didn’t seem to have much to say, or even really try to bid her a private goodbye, so Kiki let her daughters drag her across the parking lot as she called back to their two dinner companions.

“See you guys later,” she said. “Thanks for dinner!”

Trace waved at her again, as did Jesse. That was the last thing Kiki saw before Esme was forcing her into her car. Snickering at her pushy daughters, she fired up the engine as the girls jumped into the car and slammed the doors. Putting the car in gear, she backed out and pulled away from the parking lot while Trace and Jesse still stood there, watching her go. Once she pulled out onto the street and headed for the freeway, she turned to Embry, in the front seat.

“Okay,” she said suspiciously. “What was that all about? Why the bum’s rush to the car?”

Embry grinned. “Because we had to talk to you,” she said. “Mr. Rocklin asked us to do it in private. He said this should come from us.”

The light turned red and Kiki brought the car to a stop, looking at her daughters expectantly. “What should come from you?”

Embry and Esme looked at each other before Embry continued. “Mr. Rocklin is really concerned about you living in that house,” she said. “He said that he asked you if he could move in and rent a room from you as a tenant but that you were concerned about what Es and I would think. He said you didn’t want to do anything inappropriate in front of us.”

Kiki was rather surprised that Trace had brought that up to the girls. He had been clear that he would let her handle her children when it came to their relationship so this came as something of a shock. She wasn’t so sure she liked it, in fact.

“I told you that earlier today,” she said. “You two weren’t hot on the idea, remember? You told me it wasn’t a good idea to shack up with a guy I’d only known three days.”

Embry put her hand on her mom’s arm. “I know we did,” she said. “But this was different, Mom. He asked our permission, if he could move in with you, you know, to protect you and all. I know we said it wasn’t a good idea for him to move in with you, but he seems really concerned about you. I believe him when he says that he just wants to make sure you’re safe and I’m really glad you’ve found someone who cares about you like that. He wanted our permission because he thought Es and I should be the ones to really make the decision if we were okay with it or not. After talking to him, I have to say that I’ve changed my mind.”

Kiki didn’t know what to say. She looked between her girls, reinforcing the fact that her daughters were really all grown up. They were logical, well-adjusted women and she was coming to understand now why Trace had approached them. It wasn’t that he needed their permission but it was clear he wanted their approval. He was serious about protecting their mother and wasn’t going to wait on something that had to do with her safety. He was including the girls in something that would, realistically, affect them all. So what if he hadn’t let her handle it; as far as she was concerned, it had been the right way to do it. Kiki was still treating her girls like fragile children and he wasn’t.

“I didn’t tell him what you both said earlier about him moving in with me,” she finally said. “He didn’t know you didn’t think it was a good idea.”

The light turned green and Kiki drove on. Both girls were watching their mother as she navigated Rosemead Boulevard. “He didn’t say he’d talked to you about it or anything,” Esme said from the back seat. “He just explained to us that he felt it was safer if he moved in considering what had happened. He told us that he thinks you’re pretty special and it would kill him if anything happened to you. I think he’s a good guy, Mom. I can’t think badly about someone who clearly likes you so much and is trying so hard to help you.”

A smile crossed Kiki’s lips. “So you’re okay with it, then? Him renting a room from me, I mean.”

The girls both nodded. “I like him,” Embry said. “And the way he looked at you at dinner… not even Dad did that. Mr. Rocklin really likes you, Mom.”

Kiki could feel herself blushing, struggling not to grin like an idiot as the freeway onramp loomed. “I really like him, too,” she said softly. “Thanks, ladies… well, thanks for being so understanding. Maybe this relationship will go somewhere but maybe it won’t. In either case, at this point in my life, I feel like this is a positive move. I feel comfortable with it.”

“So you’ll let him move in?”

“I will.”

Embry looked at her sister. “We are going to have such a hot stepdad!”

As the girls broke into laughter, Kiki rolled her eyes. “He’s not your stepdad yet.”

“He will be!” Embry crowed.

Kiki didn’t say anything, too embarrassed and giddy to get into that kind of conversation with them at this point. She listened to her girls giggle and chatter about how cute Trace was and how they were going to have all of their sorority friends over to the house to drool all over him.

Kiki simply shook her head and kept her mouth shut, listening to her daughters grow more ridiculous and silly by the minute. But it was good to hear, a joy in their voices that she hadn’t heard in a very long time. The death of Mark had taken a lot of joy out of them and it was good to hear that it was returning.

Trace, she knew, had a lot to do with it. He was making them all feel like life, for them, was going on, that there were good things out there in the world for them.

For Kiki.

Maybe the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere. Maybe it would. Maybe he would be their stepdad someday. But in any case, in some small way, Trace Rocklin was helping the entire family heal from something that had been devastating and shocking.

Although Kiki hadn’t known it at the time, the day he’d given her that terrible estimate on restoring her beast of a house had been the day her life had changed forever.