Commitment Page 7

  Dylan considered him for a moment. He felt Alex’s lips brush against the top of his head, and he looked up to her. Alex flashed him a reassuring smile. He looked back at his father and shook his head. “You hate Alex.”

  “Dylan,” the congressman began to reprimand his son.

  “Mom and I love Alex.”

  “Dylan,” he repeated.

  Again the counselor interrupted. “Dylan, you don’t have to choose between Alex and your father,” she said. Dylan felt his father reach for him and took the opportunity to climb into Alex’s lap. “Is there anything you want to say to your parents?” the counselor asked him. He looked at Alex and Cassidy and then at the gentle woman who was asking him the question and nodded. “Go ahead. You can say anything you need to,” she encouraged.

  Cassidy held her breath. Alex tightened her grip on the boy in her lap slightly. Dylan looked back at Alex and then to his mother. He stopped and touched the necklace that hung around Alex’s neck and turned to the man he knew as his father. “You said Alex is not my mom. She calls me every day when she has to be away. She takes care of me and Mom and Grandma and YaYa.”

  “Dylan,” he said firmly.

  “Go on, Dylan,” the counselor encouraged as she shoot a stern look of warning to the congressman. “It’s your turn to talk.”

  “You never call me. You didn’t come to my party.”

  “Dylan, I had to work….”

  “Mr. O’Brien,” the counselor warned again.

  Dylan snuggled into Alex and felt his mother’s hand tenderly rub his back in encouragement. Cassidy’s heart was breaking. She was acutely aware of the pain and disappointment her ex-husband had caused in Dylan, but he had never articulated that to her fully. The anger, disappointment and frustration radiating from her son was palpable. Alex pulled him to her protectively. Dylan was unsure of what to say. “It’s all right, sweetie,” Cassidy’s voice cracked slightly.

  “Dylan?” the counselor called to him. “Do you want to spend time with your father?”

  “No,” his hushed reply came.

  O’Brien seethed. He swallowed his anger and painted on the winning smile of a polished politician. He gestured to his lawyer, who handed him a small box, wrapped with a bow. “Well,” he said. “I am sorry that you feel that way, Dylan.” He gave his son the box under the scrutinizing gaze of one extremely protective agent. “I know this doesn’t make up for me being away, but I hope you will accept it,” he said. O’Brien reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, and Dylan jerked back. “I see,” O’Brien said as he rose back to his feet. “You certainly are persuasive,” he shot at his ex-wife. Cassidy shook her head in disgust and reached for Dylan, who gratefully climbed into his mother’s lap. “It’s not over,” O’Brien bent over and spoke into Alex’s ear.

  Alex fought her desire to lay him out flat with one punch. She took a deep breath and smiled at him. Silence had suddenly enveloped the room as Dylan’s frustrated tears fell on his mother’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Dylan,” Cassidy comforted him.

  “I don’t want to go with him,” Dylan cried louder than anyone would have expected.

  Cassidy felt her body begin to tremble. She could feel Dylan’s fear and the contempt it bred in her for the man a few feet away made her sick inside. “Shh,” she whispered, kissing his head and whispering comforting assurances to him.

  O’Brien headed for the door and looked at the counselor. “You see how they have corrupted him?” he asked harshly. “She’s not his mother,” he said.

  “Yes she is!” Dylan exploded.

  “Dylan, honey,” Cassidy pulled him closer. His body was shaking violently, and Cassidy suddenly felt helpless. It was extremely uncharacteristic of Dylan to have an outburst.

  “You can’t take her away!” he yelled again.

  “No one’s taking anyone away,” the counselor promised.

  “He said so. He said so,” Dylan cried.

  Alex looked across to the congressman. She was tempted to address him directly. It was clear to her that at some point, Dylan had come to believe his father would take Alex away from him. She closed her eyes to calm her temper and leaned into Dylan and kissed him. “It’s okay, Speed.” Alex found her feet and calmly walked across the room. She looked at the counselor and stepped directly in front of the congressman. “No one will ever take me away from my family,” she said calmly. “No one. Now, you have upset my son enough for a lifetime.”

  “Your son?” O’Brien began.

  Alex made no reaction and placed her hand on the door to the small conference room. She opened it slowly and gestured to him. “Yes, Congressman.”

  He stared at her coldly and then looked back at Cassidy. “Cassie…Dylan and…”

  “Just go,” Cassidy implored, continually rubbing her son’s back in small circles.

  O’Brien began to walk through the door and leaned into Alex. “You’re not as smart as you think,” he chuckled.

  Alex shook her head and shut the door behind him. She looked at the counselor, immediately seeing the sincerity in the woman’s apologetic eyes. Alex smiled sadly and headed for her family. She bent over and looked at the box on the floor. She wanted to kick it, but she thought that a more mature approach was called for and picked it up, handing it to Cassidy as she gently extracted Dylan from his mother’s protective hold. Dylan clasped onto Alex. “If you don’t mind; I’d like to take my family home now,” Alex said pointedly.

  “Of course,” the counselor said, opening the door for the agent. She placed her hand on Cassidy’s shoulder and stopped her momentarily. “We’ll figure it out. I promise,” she said. Cassidy nodded and accepted Alex’s hand. Dylan had barely spoken of his father in months. Now, she understood that he had overheard many things; things he had not shared with her or Alex. She grasped Alex’s hand tighter as her tears threatened to escape.

  Dylan laid his head on Alex’s shoulder, and Alex could feel him beginning to succumb to sleep. “I love you, Speed,” she said. He mumbled something and tightened his hold on her neck. “I promise, no one will ever take me away.” Cassidy heard the declaration and sighed. Her thoughts were suddenly traveling to the letter Alex’s father had written, and for the first time her heart was genuinely torn.

  Wednesday, December 10th

  Jonathan Krause sat quietly sipping the scotch Edmond Callier had poured him. They had spent the last hour in casual conversation, discussing business deals and associates in a benign and amicable manner. Krause studied his mentor carefully. There was a sense of tension emanating from the older man that was not customary. It was Krause’s intention to leave this visit with a clearer picture of who Nicolaus Toles was, and who exactly was pulling the strings in what was left of The Collaborative. “So, Jonathan. A nice dinner calls for a pleasant wine; don’t you think?” Krause nodded his agreement. “I’ve never shown you my wine cellar; have I?”

  “I don’t believe so, no.”

  “Excellent. Why don’t we take a walk? I promise you, if you cannot find an appropriate wine there; one does not exist,” Callier bragged with enthusiasm. Krause tipped his head in acknowledgement and followed his host dutifully through the expansive mansion until they reached a door. A narrow stairway led them to a cool, dry basement. The historic stone walls and the soft lighting made Krause grin instinctively. Callier continued making casual remarks about the home, its history, and of course, wine. The Frenchman had always impressed Jonathan Krause. It was clear that he was being led to a safe haven of sorts; a place without ears or eyes. Callier smiled and pressed a button on the wall. A door slid gently open and, Krause could not hide the bemused gleam in his eye when he heard a recording begin to play behind them. He shook his head. Most people thought these types of things the imagination of novelists and filmmakers. They were, in fact, Jonathan Krause’s reality. It was a reality he could not deny he found exhilarating. “So Jonathan; I’m certain you did not follow me here to discuss my expertise in fine wine.”

 
; “No.”

  Callier sighed and sat on a short wooden table. “First, tell me what has you so concerned for your family.” Krause’s hand reached the back of his neck, displaying his discomfort with the question. “Oh, come now, Jonathan. Your curiosity about Nicolaus Toles is not simply about financial transactions,” the older man keenly observed.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Mm. Your concern is for your family. I’ve known you a long time, Jonathan.”

  “They are not my family, Edmond,” Krause said. Edmond Callier stroked his chin in thought. He nodded and slowly made his way to a cabinet on the far wall. He pulled it open and retrieved a small photo, placing it in Krause’s hands. “What is this?”

  Callier smiled and resumed his seated position. He pointed to the picture. “Look at it.” Krause studied it closely. “Your father never wanted his children in this business, Jonathan.” Krause lifted his gaze from the photo in confusion. “That surprises you?” Callier asked.

  “My father groomed me for this my entire life. I still remember the disappointment in his eyes when West Point rejected me.”

  Callier smiled. “You haven’t really looked at that picture.”

  Krause returned his gaze to the small black and white photo in his hand. “It’s my mother. I don’t recognize…”

  “Look closely,” Callier instructed. The older man took a deep breath. “Jonathan…In my life, I have had two best friends. One, I lost long ago. The other,” his thoughts trailed. “We did not all share the same vision for our children.” He laughed and shook his head. “And, our children often did not share the vision we had.” Krause felt his mouth suddenly go dry and looked at the man before him, a sense of foreboding of what was to come. “Your father engineered your rejection to West Point. He paved the way for your education at Stanford. He devised the organization that would ensure you were put in a suit quickly rather than left in the field. All of it to keep you removed. To keep you somehow, safe.”

  “From what? My brothers…My father…”

  “Benjamin Krause?” Callier grinned. “He raised you.”

  “What are you saying?” Krause asked.

  Callier took the picture from the younger man’s hands. “He never wanted your sister or brother in this game either. He put more roadblocks in her way…”

  “I don’t have a sister,” Krause interjected.

  Callier’s eyebrow raised with a smile. “I think you already know that is not true.”

  Krause uncharacteristically put his face in his hands. “Alex,” he whispered.

  “Mm. Not that surprised; are you?” Krause could not answer his mentor’s question. “You are very much alike. Down to whom you fall in love with,” Callier chuckled.

  “Why would my mother…”

  “There is so much you don’t know, Jonathan. Nicolaus, Anthony, and I; we agreed. Many years ago, we agreed. Anthony was adamant that John would serve. No matter how hard John fought that,” Callier paused and closed his eyes. “And, Elliot? Well, there was no stopping him. God knows I tried. I am only grateful his sister allowed me to guide her down a different road. Nicolaus and I…This is not an easy life. Not one made for attachments. Not one that can ever guarantee any happiness.”

  “No one has that guarantee,” Krause observed harshly. “You had no right…”

  “Oh? You don’t think so? And, what of Dylan? What would you do to protect the boy?” Callier asked pointedly.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” Krause replied.

  “Did you ask one?” Callier nodded again. “Haven’t I? You wanted to know who Nicolaus Toles was. I told you. I told you before that I may not have the answers you seek and that the answers I had may not be what you expected.”

  “You know what I was asking,” Krause answered.

  “If you want to know who Nicolaus was, in any capacity, I have given you the key to it all.”

  “A father who; what? Abandoned me?” Krause snapped.

  “Hardly,” Callier replied. “Hardly. You think that your father; the father you knew was your link to this life.” Callier let out a heavy sigh. “He was not. Though he would love to make that claim. Nicolaus was not always simply a money broker. For many years, many….he worked in the field when his father was still alive. He had a partner; just like you.”

  Krause shook his head in disbelief. “My mother,” Krause guessed. Callier nodded. “What about Alex’s…”

  Callier smiled. “Helen is an amazing woman.”

  “You know…”

  “I was at their wedding.”

  “Alex doesn’t know…”

  “No. I’ve not seen Helen in many years. We were young, Jonathan. Hard to believe; I am sure,” he chuckled. “But, once upon a time, we were young. Nicolaus and I attended Harvard together. He studied law. I studied economics. Our paths were carved for us,” he paused and considered his next words. “Your father, Alex’s father, he loved Helen. He always loved Helen. The field is a strange place. You know that. Your mother was his confidante. In many ways his true best friend. Life….and death move us sometimes. There was never any regret on either of their parts. Your mother left her position. Married the father who raised you. And, there were no regrets for that either; not that I am aware of.”

  “Does she know?”

  “Who?” Callier asked.

  “Helen? Does she know?” Krause asked softly. He could not understand the emotions coursing through him. He’d grown fond of Alex’s family. A sense of guilt seemed to creep over him.

  Callier sensed his young friend’s distress. “You are not as cold as you would like to believe,” he said. “You want to know…Does she know who you are?” Callier asked. Krause nodded. “I don’t know that answer. I don’t believe Nicolaus ever told her that.” Krause hung his head slightly and sighed. “But, she knows he had a son, yes.” Krause looked up in shock. “Jonathan, I told you once before that you are like my son; as was John. As Alexis is much like a daughter to me, more than you realize. She is my goddaughter. My oath was given long ago to protect her.”

  Krause bristled. “You made the call to have John…”

  Callier sighed. “No. Things are not what they seem. The walls hear everything; all the walls that surround us, every minute. This room is my only sanctuary. It took years for us to devise a safe method of communication. There is one in this home. There is one at Carecom and one…one that resides off the basement of a townhouse in Arlington.”

  For months, Krause had blamed himself. He had tried to warn John Merrow about the impending assassination attempt. He had planted deliberate chatter for the NSA and Secret Service. He had hired a sharp shooter to make it look good in case anything went awry; a shooter that never showed. Now, Callier was telling him that there was nothing he could have done to save his best friend. “He knew it was coming. Before I told him…before…”

  “Yes,” Callier answered.

  Krause attempted to absorb all of the information he had been given. He was surprised to find tears had begun to sting the back of his eyes. He had felt it; a connection to Alex. A soft buzz in his pocket startled him. He shook off his thoughts with an audible exhale and looked at his phone. “Shit,” he mumbled. He looked to his mentor. “I assume there is a safe line in here?” Callier nodded. “I need it,” he said, barely masking the urgency in his voice.

  “Alex?” Callier asked. Krause nodded. “This way.”

  lex kept a close eye on Cassidy as Cassidy puttered about the kitchen. It had been a long night. Dylan slept for hours after their afternoon visit with his father. When he did awake, the scene had turned emotional. It took Alex and Cassidy more than an hour to calm him down. For Alex’s part, she felt utterly helpless and unbelievably guilty. Dylan would not share what he had overheard his father say. Cassidy was not certain if his father had directly made accusations or threats regarding Alex. He just kept begging not to have to leave his parents, and for Dylan, that meant Alex and Cassidy. Alex could tell by he
r wife’s demeanor that Cassidy had been pushed beyond her limits. It was rare for Cassidy to shut down. When Alex attempted to approach the subject gently late in the evening, Cassidy had simply said she was tired. Now, they were awaiting the arrival of Brian Fallon. Alex was fairly sure that a visit from Uncle Brian would cheer up Dylan, but where Cassidy was concerned, she remained at a loss.

  “Cass?”

  Cassidy continued her work at the kitchen counter, putting together a lasagna for their dinner. “Yeah?”

  “Are you all right?

  “I’m fine.”

  Alex pinched the bridge of her nose and made her way behind Cassidy. She leaned over and placed her arms around Cassidy’s waist, gently turning her wife so that she could look at her. “Please tell me what you are thinking.”

  Cassidy closed her eyes and pressed her lips together tightly. “Honestly, Alex…I’m not sure what I am thinking. I need some time to just…”

  “I know,” Alex said. She kissed Cassidy’s forehead and breathed a small sigh of relief when Cassidy welcomed the embrace fully. “I promise that we will figure it out,” Alex said as she continued to hold Cassidy close.

  Cassidy leaned fully into Alex, feeling her emotions begin to surface. Being with Alex was the safest place Cassidy had ever known. It was also the place where her heart controlled all reason and action. She sniffled slightly and pulled back. “Let me get this finished,” she said, avoiding Alex’s eyes. She was relieved when the sound of the doorbell pierced through the silence that hovered between them. “Go get that,” Cassidy said, placing a kiss on Alex’s cheek.

  “Cass?” Alex turned back.

  “Go on,” Cassidy said, offering Alex the faintest hint of a genuine smile. Alex nodded.

  “Uncle Brian’s here!” Dylan called excitedly.

  “Guess someone beat me to it,” Alex chuckled and moved toward the hallway.

  “Hey, Speed, why don’t you go see if you can help Mom for a few minutes?” Alex suggested.