Free Moonrise by Anne Stuart

him without him knowing. But now the cottage and at least a half dozen surrounding acres were toast, including all trace of his most recent visitors. And he had brought Annie out, into a danger he was no longer certain he could handle.
    There was a piece of the puzzle missing, he was sure of it, but for the past few months he simply hadn’t given a damn. He’d holed up, just waiting for them to send someone after him, and he’d kept his mind and his memories successfully dulled. He hadn’t wanted to remember, not the night of April second, or the nagging questions that surrounded it.
    He didn’t want to think about how he’d got there in the first place. The organization, small, quiet, efficient, meting out justice and cleaning up political messes where overt organizations were helpless. He had done his share, never realizing he was part and parcel of making things worse.
    All the tequila in Mexico couldn’t burn that knowledge from his brain, and then Annie showed up, and all those questions flared into the open again.
    Win Sutherland hadn’t been alone. In his schemes, his tricks, his games. In his lucrative little sideline, ordering death for the rightprice and sending out his loyal minions. His stooges.
    Carew might be fool enough to think the organization had stopped with Win’s death. James knew better. Up to now he hadn’t given a shit. Let them all keep killing one another. He was out of it, just waiting for someone good enough and fast enough to finish him.
    But everything had changed. He wasn’t through yet. He couldn’t just let it go and let them sort things out, not with Annie poking her nose into things. He couldn’t count on Martin to protect her—he was good, but he’d never done any wet work. As far as James knew, he probably couldn’t even shoot a gun. He’d be no protection at all for those who’d come after Annie.
    So he was back, whether he wanted to be or not. And this time he wasn’t going to let go until he found the answers. He’d take Carew by his scrawny little throat and force him to tell him everything. Carew wanted him dead, just as Win’s associates did. At least he could bargain with Carew for a cease-fire. Just long enough to find the answers.
    What the hell was that stupid embroidery Annie kept yammering about? Probably a red herring, or maybe some kind of code. He wished he could just ignore it, concentrate on whom Win had seen last, where he’d been.
    But he was good at his profession. And he knew he couldn’t afford to discount anything, even some tacky “luck o’ the Irish” wall hanging.
    He needed answers, and he wasn’t going to stop until he got them. Knowledge was power. Knowledge was control and a faint modicum of safety. He doubted he could buy his own safety, but he might be able to buy a life for the tart-tongued woman sleeping so soundly beside him. With luck, it just might be enough.
    “We’ve got a problem, sir.”
    “So what the hell else is new?” the general snapped. It was early evening, but this time the office was far from deserted. The man standing opposite him had an ostensible reason for his visit, but one that wouldn’t hold up to too much scrutiny. It had to be something pretty damned bad to get him over here. “You’re going to tell me McKinley got away, aren’t you? I don’t want to hear it.”
    “I’m not sure. The place blew up, and we haven’t been able to contact our operatives yet. With any luck Hanover will have set it and taken care of both of them.”
    “Who says we can expect luck in this business?” the General said sourly. “McKinley’s anexpert in explosives—better than Hanover ever was.”
    “Was, sir?”
    “You may not be sure, son, but I am. Your people are gone. McKinley got away again, damn his eyes. And he probably took Sutherland’s daughter with him. We’re in deep shit, son.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The General leaned back with a weary sigh. He was getting too old for this. It was time to think of