Lev nodded. “Absolutely. I will not rest until we find out who is behind this breach.”
“Good. Once we solve this case, we’ll discuss your reasons for leaving my team.”
Chapter 6
Finally, Rachel slept through the night. She sat on her bed and checked her texts. Nothing. Two days had passed since the FBI paid her a visit about Lev. They believed her story about not really knowing Lev Volkov, who they called a person of interest. Not as the terrorist’s accomplice, but as a mystery hero. Likely, never to be found. When the bomb exploded, he was too close to the detonation site and became fish food. MIA. No one under his name had registered at any of the hotels. Lev must have used an alias. The FBI had handed her their card and told her to call if she heard anything. Being this was New Orleans, rumors of a ghost, a vampire or even an angel helping save people from the bomber surfaced. At least there weren’t more sightings of a large wolf.
She donned her robe and went down stairs. Something smelled good.
Maggie smiled at Rachel as she made French toast. The smile showed the world she was in love with the man of her dreams. Not that she wanted to rain on her parade, but Maggie’s cheery disposition brought her down. Had mysterious Lev been the man of Rachel’s dreams? Not likely. Lev in his badass
black leather coat hadn’t looked like the settling type. “Pull out a chair and come eat.”
“Where’s Jim?”
“He is borrowing a truck to move in the rest of his stuff.”
“Cool.” She did her best not to frown. Great. Being here with newlyweds is not going to work. Better to go back to her old life. Dedicated doctor in some third world country where it didn’t matter she had no love life. No family to come home to. And no reminder she’d been obsessed with some drop dead gorgeous man who was either dead, or skipped out on her. He must have seen her as a dinner date he’d no intention of getting serious with. A date and possibly one-night stand to enjoy New Year’s Day, nothing more. Such a tryst would have satisfied her fantasies about him. Until she met Mr. Right. Actually, more like Mr. Almost Right.
“What’s wrong? You love my killer French toast.”
Rachel poured herself coffee. “Sorry. I just can’t get Lev out of my mind.”
Maggie brought the plate to the table and sat next to her. “Sorry, hon. Orange juice?”
“No, thanks.” She tasted a slice of French Toast. “Yum.” Still, she found it hard to enjoy food, after all that had happened.
“No word about him—or your father?”
Ouch. Maggie always got to the point. “Not a word about what happened to Lev and definitely nothing from Howard.”
“Your dad must be off the grid without television or internet. The bomber news had gone viral.”
“Only three people died, four if you count Lev, and all men. I suppose Howard can’t be that much of an insensitive ass.” She stabbed another slice of toast. “Okay, maybe just an ass.” Maggie’s friends and family had been calling the last few days. Most of Rachel’s friends were still stationed in Africa and they had texted or emailed her to make sure she was okay. No relatives, though. Sucked being an only child of only child parents. She did have some second cousins who lived in New York, but they’d never touched base.
“There must be a reason. After all, your father took care of you while you recovered from Ebola.” Maggie scoffed. “My parents are germaphobes. They’d have worn a hazmat suit and stayed behind a germ proof glass if I had Ebola.”
“Howard volunteered to be with me while I was contagious, so I’ll give him that.” She scoffed. “Or as a doctor, he had more medical interest on how one recovers from Ebola.”
“Maybe Jim is right. Your father is part of some secret government group.”
Rachel furrowed her brow. “Wait. What if something happened to him? Who would contact me in the event he was dead or hurt?”
“Trust me. He owns a home and probably has life insurance. You would know.”
“Yet, I’ll never know what happened to Lev.”
“Actually, I think you might.”
“I doubt I was in Lev’s will.”
“I know of a brilliant psychic who will know.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. I know it sounds hokey, but Madam Adele Montfort is the real deal. She does readings in the back room of a voodoo shop.”
“And you know her, how?”