Wanted (Most Wanted 1)

"Dammit, Lina--"

"No." The word came out quick and firm and full of absolute conviction. "Please," I said. "My mind's made up. I know Kevin. I get him now. And he's vindictive. If I stay, he won't ever let up. You want to be safe for Ivy? You want everything you've given up to shut your operations down to actually matter? Then you have to let me do this."

He didn't say anything. He just looked at me with storm-gray eyes, so flooded with regret that I had to look away.

"I'm sorry," I said as I stood up. "I love you desperately. And that's why I have to go away."

It felt good to be back in California with my mom and my dad, but I missed Evan terribly. And every time the pain got to be too much, I just reminded myself that I'd had a reason for walking away. For Evan. For my parents. And even a little bit for me, because there was finally something that I could do for them, even if they weren't actually aware of the sacrifice I was making.

But I couldn't completely bury myself, and so I sucked up my courage, sat my parents down, and told them that I didn't want to work in Washington.

"I think it's fascinating," I said, "and I don't regret my degree or the years I spent or any of that. But it's not me."

"Then why--" my mother began, but my dad pressed his hand over hers, gently silencing her.

"I always thought politics was more your sister's fascination," he said. He spoke blandly, but I saw the comprehension in his face, and I think that may have been the first time I truly understood how well-suited for politics my father was.

"She loved everything about it," I agreed. "I like it. I think it's interesting. But I don't love it, Daddy. Not like you do. Not like Grace did."

He nodded slowly. "What do you love?"

"Art," I said, without hesitation.

He inclined his head. "I shouldn't have even had to ask that. I think you were born with a sketchpad."

"Too bad I can barely draw a stick figure."

"Nonsense," my mother said loyally. "You're very talented."

I laughed and hugged her. "I'm not," I said. "But I can see talent. I'd like to maybe manage a gallery someday. Or work in restoration. I don't know. To be honest, I'm not sure what all the options are. But I think I want to go back to school to find out." I wrinkled my nose as I held my breath, trying to gauge their reactions.

It was my mother who spoke first. "I'll talk to Candace in the morning--you remember Candace? She spent two years interning at the Louvre. If anyone knows the best schools to consider she will."

I tried to say something, but couldn't manage to talk with my throat full of tears. Instead, I just smiled like an idiot and looked at my father. He shook his head with mock sadness. "I'm going to owe some major favors on the Hill," he said. "Congressman Winslow will never find an aide as competent as you would have been."

I threw my arms around him and hugged him.

And for the first time in almost eight years, I felt like it was truly me with my parents, and not me channeling the ghost of my sister.

"Have you considered moving back to Chicago?" my mother asked me days later as we wandered some of La Jolla's galleries. "There are several good programs there, I believe."

"There are," I said. "But I don't think so. I'm not sure I want to move back to the same city that Kevin's in."

Her brows lifted. "That young agent that your father introduced you to?"

"Don't tell Daddy, but he's kind of a jerk."

"Is he? Or did you just meet someone else?"

I grimaced. "There was a guy," I said. "It didn't work out."

"Why not?" she asked, and I kicked myself for opening that door.

"A bunch of stuff."

"Do you want to tell me?"

I shook my head. "No."

We walked in silence for a while. "Did you love him?" she asked.

I almost lied, but I couldn't do that to Evan. Even if he was no longer in my life, I couldn't lie about the way I felt about him. "Yes," I said. "Yes, I love him."

She glanced at me sideways and I expected her to launch into some sort of maternal pep talk. Instead she said, "Your father wasn't the first man I loved."

"He wasn't? Who was?"

A whisper of a smile touched her lips. "It doesn't matter. But he was exciting and bold and he made me feel like anything was possible so long as I was with him."

"I know that feeling," I said. Evan was the rush I needed in my life, that extra something that made me feel alive. And, I knew now, I was the same for him. "Do you feel that way with Daddy?"

"I love your father very much, but it's tamer," she said. "It's more of a partnership. And there's nothing wrong with that, Angie. But if you can find the passion and the partnership--" She cut herself off with a wavering smile. "These are not the kinds of things mothers are supposed to talk about. But I want you to have everything good in the world."

"So why didn't you marry him? The first man, I mean."

"He didn't want me. Or, rather, he wouldn't have me."

"Why not?"

"He was involved in some things that skirted the law. He said that was no life for me."

I stopped, turning to look in a gallery window so she couldn't see my face. Jahn. That's why their pictures were in those albums without my dad. Because my dad very literally wasn't in the picture when those photos were taken.

"Did you agree?" I asked softly.

"I never let myself think about it," she said, though I didn't believe her. "He thought he was saving me. That he was making some grand sacrifice to protect me. But really he was just hurting us both. And I think he regretted walking away."

I felt hollow inside. "How do you know?"

"Things he said when I saw him years later." She waved the words away. "It doesn't matter. I'll never know for certain."

But I knew, I realized. That was why he'd kept those photos. And what was it he'd told me so many years ago? Sarah is special.

Yes, I thought, she is. And although I loved my dad desperately, I couldn't help but want to weep for my mother and my uncle, and the love they never truly got to share.

And I tried hard not to think about Evan, or the sacrifice I was making for him. A sacrifice that I was making without his consent. And one that I was starting to fear I would regret. But I still didn't know what choice I had. I couldn't leave him or my father to the wolves, and right then, with Kevin waiting so eagerly for any mistake, I was certain that those two men I loved would get eaten alive.

I made an effort to be more upbeat for the rest of our shopping trip, and when we returned home, laden with bags, we were both laughing about the horrible outfits we'd tried on at a local boutique.

"You should have bought the pink one," my mom said.

"Are you insane? I would have looked like a marshmallow Peep." I was about to counter that she should have bought the blue caftan-looking thing, but we'd reached the living room, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Evan was there. So was my dad and three men I didn't recognize, but who were wearing suits and looked very official.

"Um, hi. What's going on?"

"I had some business to conduct with your dad," Evan said, which made absolutely no sense to me. "But I think we're square now." He stood up and extended his hand. "Senator, it's been a pleasure."

He finished the goodbyes, then turned toward the door. "Angie, could I have a word?"

I saw the realization bloom on my mother's face, but now wasn't the time to confirm or deny. I followed him outside feeling lighter than I had in days--and at the same time angry that he'd come out here just when I was starting to get the pain under control. Because nothing had changed. There was still no possible future between us--not when my father's career hung in the balance--and seeing him only created fresh wounds.

"What the hell is going on here?" I demanded.

"It's done," he said. "The bullshit Mann Act threat--it's dead and buried."