Then perhaps Lou would run to Asia again. Maybe stay there this time, because to face his sorrows, to forgive God for the pain in his life, had proved too hard for him.
She hoped the best for him, she really did. But she also hoped for herself, because there was one part of her heart, a large portion, that might never be free unless she could let him go.
And right now, letting go wasn’t even something she could imagine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A sea of ebony stretched before Lou. The image altered. A woman, small and gently curved, stood at the door. Glossy strands of her hair glistened beneath a milky moon. Her face... He couldn’t see her face. He moved closer, his pulse thumping through him in quick, steady beats.
If only he could see her somehow. It wasn’t Sarah. Her hair was blond. And she was gone, wasn’t she? Gone forever. He waited for the familiar ache to surge through him, but it didn’t arrive. Instead, he drew closer to the woman before him, the one whose expression he couldn’t see. But he wanted to. He wanted to touch her skin, to see laughter light her eyes.
Moonlight flowed over her slight shoulders, undulating into the room where he stayed. He moved quickly, needing to reach her, but the moment his hand connected to her sleeve, she vanished and he awoke. He blinked, his eyes gritty and his feelings raw.
Mary’s face swam before him, the way she’d looked when he’d kissed her that second time. Soft and dewy. In love.
And she’d said it, too. Said that she loved him, with luminous eyes and trust in her voice. Idiot that he was, he’d thrown her feelings in her face. Remembering how he’d mentioned Sarah, he groaned and pressed his palms against his eyes.
Enough whining. He’d made his bed and it was the best one for him. Common sense told him Mary needed a good man with a whole heart and a spiritual bent. What could he offer her? A house. That was about it.
You make her smile.
Okay, so he could give her some good stories. So what?
She trusts you.
Not anymore. Not since she found out he’d known her mother exposed her whereabouts to Langdon.
Muttering, he sat up and threw the flimsy blanket off his legs. He had a criminal to hunt down, and today was his last day to find him before shipping out for Hong Kong. If he didn’t arrest Langdon today, he’d have to leave the duty to his team, and that wasn’t going to happen.
This was his man and he’d get him no matter what.
He hurried out of bed, dressed and went in search of his junior agents.
“You’re sure he’s here?” Lou gazed dubiously at the rickety house in front of them. The structure seemed barely capable of standing against such a steep wind.
“Yep. I’ve been here several times in the past few years. They let the hooch sit here a spell after the drop-offs and then slowly move it out.” O’Leary shaded his forehead against the sunset. “Langdon doesn’t usually do the dirty work, but with heat on him, he’s probably hiding out here. We’ve taken down his other spots and put the word out that we’re done with the search. He’s an arrogant fellow, usually handles the money and the politics. He doesn’t suppose we’ll keep looking for him now that we’ve got some success on the table.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Lou grimly. Getting Langdon would be a real coup, not just professionally but personally, too. And if they couldn’t get him on the shooting charge, they’d have a smuggling charge to put him away for a while.
He eyed the house. “Best way in?”
O’Leary, whom he’d specifically requested work at his side, gestured to the right. “Around back there’s a cellar door. We’ll drop in there and work our way up.”
“Let’s go.” Lou and the four other men who made up their team followed O’Leary to the back. He located a heavy door set into the incline leading up to the abandoned house. The moan of the wind disguised the hinge’s whine when O’Leary and Lou opened the cellar.
“It’s not padlocked because the men use it routinely, and they don’t expect theft in this place.”
Lou glanced over his shoulder as the agents filed in. No other lights were visible on this rugged portion of Oregon landscape. Even the roads didn’t come this far. They’d hiked a jagged path to reach the house. O’Leary had done his work well. Lou planned on making sure he received a commendation for it.
He dropped down after the last agent, leaving the cellar door open. The cold damp hit him square in the face and he suppressed a shiver. They followed O’Leary up the stairs quietly, and listened for sounds.
Nothing.
The lights had been on in the upper parts of the house. O’Leary nudged the door open and Lou slid through first, revolver ready, back against the wall. He eased into what looked like the kitchen in the waning light. He cocked his head, listening, but only heard the shushed sound of the other men filtering into the room. They spread out in a tactical offense formation.
Lou used his gun to gesture upward. O’Leary nodded. He gave the other men the sign to scope out the rest of the house while he and Lou made their way to the next set of stairs. Positioned in the living room, the narrow staircase had obviously been built for much smaller people.
Lou semisquatted his way up the stairs, keeping O’Leary behind him. He didn’t like casualties on his watch. Knew they happened, but not when he could help it. As they touched the top step, the crackle of a radio reached their hearing. He craned his head around the corner.
Unbelievable.
A short hiss escaped his lips, lost beneath the soft jazz emanating from the room. Langdon sat in a chair, head between his hands... Alone. No one else present that Lou could
