I was scared. She was right; I was dealing with shit from Afghanistan that I couldn’t seem to let go of. The only way I knew how to stay alive, how to survive, was to stay in control. But there was nothing controlled about the nightmares that plagued me when my head hit the pillow or the way I felt when I was near Kate.

My life had gone off the rails somewhere along the way and for now the only thing that made sense was to follow the ride.

I loved her. Had always loved her. Would always love her.

I wasn’t a romantic necessarily, didn’t know if I believed in soul mates, or much at all, but I believed in her. In us. In the feeling inside of me when I was with her. The peace and the sense that she made me the best version of myself.

Afghanistan and everything after was this giant black mark over my life. She was the light.

I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her and hauling her up on her toes so that my lips came down on hers, a hum building in my throat as I kissed her, as my body relaxed into the familiar sensation of having her pressed against me. She was a key sliding into place, flipping a lock open with a flick of her wrist.

She was everything.

Kate pulled back first, her eyes wide, as though she recognized that the tenor of our relationship had once again changed. I waited to see if she would push, but she didn’t.

“How did it go with your source?” she asked instead.

“Good. Really good.” I wrapped my arm around her waist, leading her over to the couch. I tucked her body into the curve of mine as we sat down on the lumpy cushions. “He was working personal security for the Afghani warlord we were protecting. He saw my father meet with him on multiple occasions. And he saw your father.”

“Oh my god.”

“He signed a nondisclosure agreement and he’s definitely scared, so he’s not going to be a help in terms of being a named source, but he’s pointing me in the right direction. It looks like my father was selling arms that were supposed to go to the troops and instead diverting them to a group of Afghani warlords whose interests were definitely against the U.S.”

Kate paled. “Fuck.”

“Based on his descriptions of the meetings with your father, I think he was using his political connections to leak information. And to cover it all up.”

Kate got up and paced the length of the living room. “But why? Why would he risk all of the things he’s built? He’s the head of the Senate Intelligence Committee. There’s talk of him running for president. Why would he screw up all of the political capital he’s amassed for himself?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why my father would risk it either. Money? Power? Both?”

“Because they’re constantly getting trod on? I mean come on, our fathers have enough of both to control this city and everyone in it.”

She was right, but I didn’t know what other explanation there could be. Their motives didn’t matter beyond the fact that they were willing to do anything it took to get what they wanted.

“Look, I gave up my seat at the table and enlisted in the military; I can’t necessarily say that I understand any of the decisions they’ve made. But I don’t really see another explanation for it. Money and power are powerful motivators. They’re the fuel this town runs on.”

Kate was silent for a moment, her expression shrewd. “You’re right. Maybe we’re naive to think that there’s a limit to money and power. That there’s ever an enough. Maybe they just liked being kings and wanted to expand their kingdoms.”

“Maybe.”

“So what now? Where do we go from here?”

“I think your father’s travel records are a place to start. If we could find a way to place him in Afghanistan, and somehow try to pinpoint his location—or an approximation, at least—it would go a long way to proving that they were together.”

“I can look in his office like we talked about,” Kate suggested. “I can also see if Jackie has anything. It sounds weird, but when she worked for Capital Confessions she collected a lot of stuff on him. It was a project of sorts for her. And I can check with Blair to see if she remembers anything from growing up—when he was gone, where he said he was going, things like that. It might be a long shot, but it’s a start. Some of those trips might have even been official. There’ll be a record of them.”

“I can try on my end with my father. I haven’t quite figured out how to get into Intech since I’m supposed to be dead, but I’ll come up with something.”

“It seems like a lot of the info would be with your father.”

“Yeah, but I have no clue where he’d keep that stuff. We weren’t exactly close before. I don’t know his habits—”

“Maybe not, but you did work at Intech. The summer before you were supposed to start at Princeton. Remember? That was the summer of my sixteenth birthday.”

I did remember. That was the summer when I’d realized that I didn’t want to be like my father, that I didn’t want my life to be about chasing the bottom line, that I wanted to make a difference, wanted to help people.

When I was a kid, I’d thought he was a hero. I’d been in awe of his military service, thought there was nothing cooler than getting to make weapons that would go to our troops. I’d wanted to be exactly like him until I saw that all of the stupid speeches he made and causes he supported really meant nothing. He used the military to garner support when he needed it, to increase his power and wealth, knowing that defense spending—especially defense spending for the kind of equipment and services he provided—would never go out of fashion.

He exploited fear and patriotic duty for his own greed, increasing his wealth while others bled and died for what they believed in. He wasn’t a hero, wasn’t someone to look up to. He was a greedy motherfucker who’d sold his soul to the devil to get ahead. It wasn’t about providing for his family, or anything other than his own lust for more.

“I might be able to figure out some of their security protocols. Might remember some things from when I worked there. I’ll think about it and see what I can come up with.”

Kate nodded. “It’s not much, is it?”

“It’s a seed. It’s a start.”

“But where are we headed?” she asked.

Kate’s phone rang, interrupting the question she left hanging, the question I desperately wished I could give her a definitive answer to.

She stared down at the caller ID. “It’s Blair. Do you mind if I take this for a second? I just want to make sure it isn’t anything important.”

“Of course.”

I didn’t mind the reprieve. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to talk about us as it was the fucking frustration of not being able to be someone she could lean on, someone who could assure her that everything would be okay. Our dynamic had been developed for so long now that it wasn’t easy feeling like I was impotent in her eyes.

We had a plan, but it didn’t feel like enough.

I got up while Kate talked to Blair and grabbed a beer from the kitchen, taking note of the meager contents of her fridge. We were going to need to make a grocery run soon. By the look of things she lived off of takeout and she still wasn’t big on cooking; I wasn’t much better. I’d never had to learn to cook when I was a kid since we’d had a chef, and my time in hiding and on the run hadn’t exactly lent itself to being domestic.

I shut the door to the fridge and turned as I heard her footsteps walking toward the kitchen.

“What do you want to get for dinner?”

Kate stood over the threshold, her face pale, the phone clutched in her hand.

“Is everything okay?”

She shook her head, her voice strained, a weird choking noise coming from her throat. Her arms wrapped around me.

“I’m so sorry; your father was killed tonight.”

Chapter Fourteen