Rapp nodded silently. It wasn’t a solution that he’d have come up with on his own, but it was the kind of out-of-the-box thinking that had his brother edging up on billionaire status. Within two years Rapp would be surrounded by shooters completely loyal to him, as well as a few kids around Anna’s age. A perfect scenario for everyone involved. All he had to do now was not screw it up.
They came over a small rise and the spotlit wall surrounding his house came into view. The copper gate swung back as they approached and Rapp frowned. Claudia had undoubtedly activated it based on the security camera displays. With the glare of the headlights, though, it would be impossible for her to see through the windshield to confirm their identities. He’d have to talk to her about that.
The modern, single-level house had been designed mostly by his late wife. His only demand was that it have no exterior windows. She and her architect had done an incredible job of camouflaging the thick walls, reinforced roof, and defensive positions.
Coleman swung the vehicle in a circle and came to a stop next to a spectacularly ugly sculpture that Claudia loved.
“Looks like a Skycrane lost its grip on a Hyundai and it landed in your yard,” the former SEAL said.
Rapp ignored the comment and stepped out into the cool night. He slammed the door and leaned through the open window. “You coming in?”
Coleman shook his head. “I hear you’ve got twelve little girls in there. That’s an opposing force I’d prefer to avoid.”
Instead of turning away, Rapp continued to grip the edge of the car door. “Things are going good?”
“Better every day. They say I might be able to jog a quarter mile on the track next month. Anything to get me out of that lap pool, you know?”
Rapp started to pull back but then stopped when Coleman leaned painfully across the seat toward him. “I have one more thing to say about Claudia.”
“You’re pushing it, Scott.”
“What are you going to do? Hit a man who walks with a cane?”
“Maybe.”
“You need to put yourself in her shoes for a minute, Mitch. If your wife had lived and you’d had a kid, would you have given everything up? The rush? The satisfaction of doing something you’re good at? Would you have just turned yourself into a stay-at-home father? Because that’s what you’re asking her to do.”
“Good night, Scott.”
Rapp watched him pull through the gate and then started for the front door. The normally spotless entryway was strewn with shoes, tiny backpacks, and a trail of colorful Legos that for some reason led into the powder room.
Much of the house consisted of floor-to-ceiling glass that looked into an elaborately landscaped courtyard. He crossed it and used a sliding door to access the industrial kitchen his architect had convinced him he needed. The dark-haired woman inside wedged one last pan in the dishwasher and spun toward him. Her hair was a bit unkempt and she had a smear of something that might have been mustard on one cheek, but she was still stunning.
Rapp indicated to the dishes stacked everywhere. “I take it the rumors of a sleepover are true.”
“You may want to go back to Iraq where it’s safe,” she said, striding across the stone floor and throwing her arms around him.
He returned the embrace hesitantly. Whenever they touched, he felt the same confusing combination of adrenaline and peace. The fact that he was becoming increasingly dependent on that sensation worried him. Those kinds of addictions never worked out well.
She pulled away and went back to cleaning. “Have you eaten? I’m sorry. I haven’t had a minute to make you anything.”
He took a seat at the large island and searched the dishes piled on it, finally selecting a hot dog with a tiny nibble out of one end. “I’m fine. Looks like you’ve had your hands full.”
“You have no idea,” she said, switching to the French she preferred. “Your operation went well? All of your friends are safe?”
“More improvisation than I would have liked,” he responded, taking a bite of the cold hot dog. “But everyone’s in one piece.”
“And Joe? Things went well with his first command?”
It felt strange talking about these kinds of things with her. He’d done everything possible to keep his work hidden from his wife. But Claudia had been part of a similar world for years. She understood what he was dealing with. What was at stake.
“Could’ve been better.”
She stopped loading dishes into the sink and turned toward him. “Everyone’s okay, though, right?”
He reached for a bag of potato chips. “Yeah, but it was a bust.”
“Really? What happened?”
He examined her as she leaned against the sink. It was an odd question. While they were in the habit of discussing his work in general terms, he never went into specifics and she knew better than to ask. What had changed?
One of the pillars of effective interrogation was knowing more than your opponent thought you did. He had a feeling that he was on the wrong side of that now. Had Coleman given her details about Maslick’s failed operation in the hope that he could recruit her? No way. The former SEAL was famously tight-lipped. And that left only one possibility.
Irene.
“Just some bad luck,” Rapp said.
She fixed her almond-shaped eyes on him in a way that suggested she knew that she’d overplayed her hand. “Nothing could have been done?”
“Act of God,” Rapp said, going out of his way to be as vague as possible. He recognized that the conversation was inevitable, but at least he could make her work for it.
She finally admitted defeat. “Did Scott talk to you about me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a very infuriating man to have a conversation with.”
He finished the hot dog. “Really?”
“I’m thinking about buying another sculpture for the front,” she said. “This one’s much larger.”
He fought back a grin. “Okay. Truce. Scott and I talked, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous enough just being around me without getting involved in my business. And because Anna needs you here.”
“It’s not operations, Mitch. You know that. And you also know that you’re putting too much pressure on Joe and Marcus. You’re going to break them.”
“Claudia—”
“I’m not finished.”
“Fine. Continue.”
“You have a life. A purpose. Challenges. I love being with Anna. But I can’t just do that. What happens in a few years when she doesn’t want her mother hovering over her every minute? You say Joe’s operation didn’t go well. Let me ask you something. And I want an honest answer. Would it have been different if I’d been involved?”
The answer was a solid Probably. She was talented and incredibly exacting. It was possible that she could have IDed the prince well before things got critical and almost certain that she’d have been maintaining a reliable link to Langley.
“I don’t know,” Rapp said.
“But maybe.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“I can help keep you and Scott’s people safe. From his office. Not from the field.”
“I just have a bad feeling about this, Claudia. I understand what you’re saying, but there are a lot of jobs out there that don’t involve so many fireworks. Why not get one of those?”