Chapter 5 - The Honeymoon That Became a ManhuntSergeant Reyes reached the tree line first.
That was the first thing I noticed.
He was sixty-two, tall, silver-haired, and impeccably dressed in a dark civilian suit. He could have been a senator, a university president, or the charming grandfather in an insurance commercial.
He stood beneath the reception tent talking to my father as though they had known each other for years.
Later, I learned they had.
Dad’s dealerships supplied vehicles to a defense-industry consortium Rourke advised.
Of course they knew each other.
Julian stopped when he saw him.
Rourke smiled.
“Julian.”
I felt Julian’s body tighten beside mine.
“General.”
Rourke opened his arms.
“I heard you were getting married in Charleston. I thought I’d congratulate you personally.”
Agent Mercer appeared behind us.
Rourke’s smile disappeared.
“Daniel.”
“General.”
My father looked between them.
“What’s going on?”
I almost laughed.
For once, Dad truly didn’t know.
Rourke’s gaze moved toward the veterans standing behind us.
Colonel Avery came forward.
“Patrick.”
“Sam.”
No warmth.
No handshake.
Avery said, “Interesting timing.”
“I could say the same.”
Rourke looked toward Julian.
“I assume they’ve filled your head with conspiracy theories.”
Mercer replied, “The evidence speaks for itself.”
“What evidence?”
“The evidence you’ve spent twelve years trying to bury.”
My father stepped between them.
“Hold on. Patrick is one of the most respected officers in the country.”
Avery looked at him.
“You really do collect status symbols, don’t you?”
Dad flushed.
Rourke ignored him.
“Julian, you remember what condition you were in.”
“Yes.”
“You were wounded.”
“Yes.”
“Dehydrated. Exhausted.”
“Yes.”
“You told medical personnel you couldn’t remember sections of the night.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“I said I couldn’t remember losing consciousness.”
Rourke’s expression didn’t change.
“Trauma affects memory.”
Mercer said, “It doesn’t alter radio recordings.”
That finally landed.
Rourke’s eyes flicked toward him.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it.
So did Avery.
Julian stepped forward.
“Were Mason, Laura, and Aaron alive?”
Rourke’s face became solemn.
“We believed they were dead.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you order the strike on the depot?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know it was a possible detention location?”
“No.”
“Did you alter the intelligence report?”
“No.”
“Did you financially benefit from Harrow Strategic?”
Rourke’s eyes hardened.
“Be careful.”
Julian laughed.
“You’ve had twelve years to make me afraid.”
He moved closer.
“I think you used them all.”
Rourke lowered his voice.
“You have a new wife. A career. A good life.”
My skin prickled.
It sounded like advice.
It felt like a threat.
Julian noticed too.
“Are you warning me?”
“I’m reminding you what matters.”
“My friends mattered.”
“You barely knew those soldiers.”
Colonel Avery’s cane struck the ground.
“You don’t get to say that.”
Rourke turned.
“You were unconscious for half the operation, Sam.”
“And I woke up.”
The two old soldiers stared at each other.
Avery spoke more quietly.
“That must be inconvenient.”
Rourke stepped closer.
“Be careful what you accuse me of.”
Mercer reached into his jacket.
“General Rourke, you are formally notified that you are a subject of an active Inspector General investigation.”
The reception fell silent around us.
My father’s mouth opened.
Rourke didn’t even blink.
“You came to a wedding to serve notice?”
“No.”
Mercer nodded toward me.
“I came because our principal witness happened to be getting married.”
Rourke looked at Julian.
“Principal witness.”
He almost sounded amused.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Congratulations.”
He turned to leave.
My father followed him.
“Patrick, wait.”
I stared at Dad.
“Seriously?”
He stopped.
“What?”
“You’re following him?”
“He’s my business associate.”
“He might have helped cover up the deaths of American soldiers.”
“That hasn’t been proven.”
Julian touched my arm.
“Claire.”
“No.”
I was done.
My father had humiliated me at my wedding because Julian didn’t have enough money.
Now, presented with the possibility that his wealthy, decorated friend was involved in something monstrous, Dad immediately defended him.
Because status came first.
Again.
“You couldn’t give Julian the benefit of the doubt for six months,” I said. “But you can give this man the benefit of the doubt after hearing all that?”
Dad lowered his voice.
“Business is complicated.”
“So is character.”
His face tightened.
“You’re emotional.”
I stared at him.
That sentence had controlled half my childhood.
Emotional.
Dramatic.
Overreacting.
Any time I disagreed, Dad turned my feelings into evidence that my opinion didn’t matter.
Not today.
“You told me to walk myself down the aisle.”
He glanced around.
Several guests were listening.
His voice softened.
“Claire, that was a heated moment.”
“No. It was a decision.”
“You embarrassed me.”
I actually laughed.
“How?”
“By choosing him.”
Julian’s hand tightened around mine.
Dad realized what he had admitted.
Too late.
I removed a small velvet pouch from beneath my bouquet.
Inside was the key to the vintage Mercedes Dad had given us as a wedding present.
A gift he had mentioned approximately thirty times because it proved how generous he was.
I held the key out.
“Keep it.”
His face changed.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t want anything from you that comes with an invoice for obedience.”
Guests went silent.
Mom moved forward.
“Claire.”
I looked at her.
She stopped.
I loved my mother.
But love didn’t erase cowardice.
“You sat there.”
Tears entered her eyes.
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you did.”
Her lips trembled.
“You chose not to.”
That hurt more to say than anything I had said to Dad.
I placed the key on a nearby table.
Then I turned to Julian.
“Washington?”
He searched my face.
“You’re sure?”
“I married you today.”
I slipped my hand into his.
“I’m pretty sure that means I’m coming with you.”
For the first time since Mercer arrived, Julian smiled.
A small smile.
Exhausted.
Grateful.
“Okay.”
Colonel Avery lifted his glass.
“To the honeymoon from hell.”
A few veterans laughed.
Even I did.
The tension broke.
For the next two hours, we tried to reclaim our wedding.
We ate cold prime rib.
We danced beneath lights.
Sergeant Reyes taught Sophie how to do a ridiculous line dance.
Colonel Avery danced once with me and apologized every time his cane bumped my dress.
At nine-thirty, Julian and I finally stood alone near the water.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“This.”
He gestured toward the entire impossible day.
I rested my head against his shoulder.
“You didn’t invite a federal investigation to the reception.”
“No. Just thirty veterans.”
“That part was kind of great.”
He laughed softly.
Then his expression changed.
“There’s something else.”
I lifted my head.
“You promised no secrets approximately two hours ago.”
“I know.”
“Julian.”
He reached into his pocket.
Removed his phone.
Opened an old photograph.
It showed six people standing beside a battered truck overseas.
A younger Julian stood at one end.
Beside him was Captain Mason Bell.
On Julian’s other side stood a woman with dark hair pulled beneath a cap.
He zoomed in.
“Laura Kim.”
I looked at her.
Then at him.
“What?”
“She wasn’t just somebody from the convoy.”
His voice weakened.
“She was my sister.”
I stared at him.
“You told me you were an only child.”
“Legally, I am.”
“What does that mean?”
“My mother gave Laura up for adoption when she was seventeen.”
My mind raced.
“When did you find out?”
“Three months before Darash.”
“Did your mother know you met?”
“No.”
“Does she know Laura may have survived?”
Julian shook his head.
“My mother believes Laura died twelve years ago.”
I held the phone carefully.
“Then we tell her.”
His eyes filled.
“I haven’t spoken to my mother in nine years.”
Before I could ask why, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
It showed Julian and me standing beside the water.
From behind.
Someone had been watching us.
Beneath the image were seven words.
GO TO WASHINGTON AND SHE DIES TOO.
Julian read it over my shoulder.
His expression transformed.
The grieving public defender disappeared.
Something colder replaced him.
He looked across the dark lawn.
“Get inside.”
“Julian—”
“Now.”
May you like
Thirty veterans stopped dancing almost simultaneously.
And somewhere beyond the lights, someone ran.
Related Stories
