Storm's Cage by Mary Stone (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

CIA contact, Nate Tennick, but he had yet to hear back from the man. Long before Zane had turned in his resignation, Nate had given up his high-risk position as a covert operative in favor of a career as an intelligence analyst.

As Zane waited for the elevator to reach his floor, he wondered if he should have done the same. He’d been under the impression that a career as an FBI field agent would be safer and less life-altering than his work at the CIA. Though his assumption was still technically correct, he questioned exactly how much safer he was in the FBI’s Organized Crime Division.

Either way, he felt like he had a target on his back.

He shook off the thought as a silvery ding announced the elevator’s arrival. With a mechanical whir, the doors slid open to reveal a woman he’d seen surprisingly little of over the past week.

Her chocolate-brown hair was pulled away from her face as neatly as ever. But between her weary eyes, paler than usual complexion, and black-on-black ensemble, Amelia looked like she was about to head to a funeral.

Then again, a few hours earlier, she had been in an armed standoff with a dirty cop. To say she’d had a long day was an understatement.

As her gaze fell on him, he thought her face brightened, but the look was fleeting.

A leaden weight sank in his stomach. He’d been at Amelia’s side minutes after her confrontation with Alton Dalessio, and even then, her expression hadn’t been this haunted.

Something was wrong.

He readjusted the laptop under his arm and offered her as much of a smile as he could manage. “Hey, Storm. How’s it going?”

Even the droop to her shoulders looked exhausting. “It’s okay, I guess. As well as it can be after a day like today.”

Zane moved to lean against the handrail at her side. “True. Good job on that, by the way. Not just on finding the guy, but on bringing him in without anyone getting killed.”

She rubbed her temple. “Yeah, it was a close call with Floyd Yoell, though. I don’t know what in the hell Allworth was aiming at when he fired that shot, but I’m glad he didn’t hit it. The last message I got said that Yoell should be okay. He got to the hospital before anything went really wrong.”

“That’s good news.” Zane paused as the elevator doors shut. When he returned his attention to Amelia, he couldn’t ignore the haunted look in her eyes. He had to know what was going on with her. “Are you okay? You look like you just got back from hell.”

A shadow of anxiety moved in to darken her already strained expression. Rather than answer, she dropped her head and stared down to the floor, letting silence envelop them.

In those agonizing moments of quiet, a litany of what-ifs whipped through Zane’s mind.

Had there been a development with her younger sister? He knew Lainey Storm had battled with an addiction to heroin and other opiates for the past seven or eight years. Had the day finally come? Had Lainey overdosed?

Or had Amelia’s father fallen back on his old ways?

He was sure she was about to blurt out whatever was weighing so heavily on her mind, but when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, all she offered him was a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just been a long…week. I’m almost glad I’ll be spending the whole day doing paperwork tomorrow.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Though his first inclination was to tell her she was full of shit and that she could tell him anything without fear of him judging her, Amelia already knew that. She’d confided in him once before, and rather than force her to reveal her troubles now, he opted to wait until she was comfortable enough to let him in. When she was ready, he’d be there for her. “Okay. If that changes, or if you need anything, you’ve got my number. You know where to find me, right?”

Her knuckles had turned white where she gripped the handbag on her shoulder. “You’re the best.” Her voice cracked, but the smile she’d plastered on remained firmly in place as she waved goodbye.

Every instinct told him he should try to dig a little deeper. Amelia was as tough as they came, but he’d seen the soft and sensitive underbelly she protected. She was his friend. Maybe more, and for that reason alone, he wanted to help her. But despite his good intentions, he had to respect her wishes. If she didn’t want to discuss her woes in an elevator in the middle of the FBI field office, he couldn’t find it within himself to fault her. In fact, if she didn’t want to broach the subject at all, he’d be a hypocrite to push the topic.

If Amelia had asked him what was on his mind right then, he’d have probably replied with a fake smile and a nod too.

There was nothing Amelia could do to keep Senator Young from digging up the skeletons in Zane’s closet, and he saw no reason to heap unnecessary stress onto her shoulders.

He ignored the nagging voice that told him to press her for an answer. The voice that told him she was in trouble.

All the while, he suspected deep down that he would come to regret the decision.

27

Flattening her palms against the laminate counter of her bathroom’s vanity, Amelia met the tired gaze of her reflection.

Zane was right. She looked like she’d just gotten back from hell.

With a groan, she leaned closer to the mirror and used a thumb to wipe away the smudged liner beneath her lower eyelids. Other than the basics, she wasn’t willing to put forth much effort into her appearance. Not tonight.

If she’d been preparing to visit a man in whom she was actually interested, she would have double-checked her makeup and spritzed herself with a little body spray. And if she thought there was