“Sounds fascinating.”
“It was boring for the most part, but I was into it. I was cocky.” He sighed. “Then along came a terrorist group known as Tiger Eye. The CIA intercepted some encrypted messages. Files sent via e-mail that were encrypted in graphic images. It was my job to find out what they were saying, what they were planning.” Another sigh slid from his lips. “This was pre 9/11. Security wasn’t as tight as it is now. Even though I was pretty much a peon working behind the scenes, someone inside the agency leaked my name. Someone from Tiger Eye got hold of it. They contacted me, threatened to kill me and my family if I broke their code to the CIA.”
“That must have been frightening.”
A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “It ticked me off mostly. But I was cocky back then. Too damn cocky. I went to my superior, told her everything. They put my wife and daughter in a protection program and I continued working on breaking the code.”
Another sigh slid from his lips. Only this time Jess thought she heard a quiver. “I got the call at just past three o’clock in the morning. Somehow the terrorists had found out where my family was hiding. Armed terrorists stormed the house in the middle of the night. Two CIA agents were killed and two more were critically wounded.”
“And your wife and daughter?”
“Shot execution-style.”
The images that forced their way into her head made Jess feel ill. For two innocent lives that were lost. For the grief and loss and guilt that must have fallen like a ton of bricks onto this man’s shoulders.
His gaze met hers. Something dark and determined glittered in their depths. “They recorded everything. Sent me the tape.” His jaw flexed. “They’d begged for their lives.”
His voice broke with the last word, but he quickly regrouped. “I’ve learned to take threats a hell of a lot more seriously.”
Jess didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. She knew the loss of his wife and daughter was the reason he wouldn’t use her as bait. She couldn’t blame him. But it didn’t change the situation they were in.
He winced when she reached out and set her palm against his face. “I’m so sorry.”
His jaw flexed. “Yeah.”
“Were the killers caught?”
“No.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Jess thought she was finally beginning to get a glimpse into the man who’d kept himself so hidden away. The man who drove himself so relentlessly.
“Everyone I’ve ever cared for has ended up dead,” he said in a rough voice.
Her gaze snapped to his. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“My wife and child weren’t the only ones, Jess.”
She looked at him. A part of her didn’t want to hear what he was going to say next. Another part of her knew she must.
“A year ago a woman I cared for deeply was killed in a car accident. We’d argued. She took off.”
“Oh, Madrid.” Jess couldn’t imagine the grief of losing so much in such a short period of time. She stared at him, aware of hot tears building behind her eyes. For the first time the ferocity with which he’d forbidden her to help him nail the smugglers made sense.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered.
“What you’ve been through…it’s incredibly sad.”
“It is.” Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. “If I’ve learned anything from this, it’s that life goes on. But you don’t ever take it for granted.” He pulled back just enough to make eye contact. “And you never take needless risks.”
She gazed back at him, hurting for him, for the hell he’d been through. “Some things are worth risking.”
“If you’re talking about putting yourself on the line, Jess, I’m not going to let you do it.”
That he cared and so readily admitted it made her chest swell. But Jess knew eventually she would have to make a decision. And that in doing so she would probably hurt him all over again.
“I have a confession to make,” she said, drawing away.
Madrid glanced at her and raised a brow. “You’re not going to shock me, are you?”
She smiled, but it felt forced. “I just want to be honest with you.”
“About what?”
“I’m not very good at…you know…this,” she blurted.
Madrid nodded, but his expression told her he hadn’t a clue what she was getting at. “You want to qualify that?”
“Relationships,” she said. “I was married for five years. It ended badly. The divorce was…messy.”
“That happens sometimes.”
“It was my fault, Madrid. The divorce, I mean. I just wasn’t good at…the whole relationship thing. In fact, I pretty much sucked at it.”
He set both hands against her cheeks and looked into her eyes. “Maybe he wasn’t good at it, Jess. Did you ever happen to think of that?”