Page 86 of Blind Trust
Lyla looked away, and Nic rose to his feet and pulled her up to him. She pressed herself against his chest, threading her arms around his waist in a desperate grip, like she was lost and needed something to anchor her. So he held her. Her body trembled with her crying, and it was almost more than he could bear. He pressed his lips to her head and prayed. For her. For Walsh. For her parents. For reconciliation. And for Lyla to believe she was loved—wholly and completely.
Lyla’s crying slowed until it was just sniffles. Her voice vibrated against his chest. “I’d make a terrible antihero.”
He smiled. “Yes, you would.”
An alert echoed from the screen. Nic glanced up and saw that Jack, Kekoa, and the British woman had entered the office. He felt Lyla’s body go rigid.
“Hey”—he tipped Lyla’s chin up again—“she might have answers.”
Lyla’s jaw clenched, but she gave a nod before releasing her hands from his waist and wiping her eyes. She stepped back just as the others walked into the fulcrum.
“Walsh is resting,” Jack said. “He’s in a medically induced coma to give his body a chance to recover, and the doctors are hopeful.”
“Thank you,” Lyla said quietly.
“Hello, Lyla.” The redhead took a tentative step forward. “My name is Sophie Bridges, and I’m with MI5. I’d like to explain why I’m here and maybe answer a few questions I’m sure you have.”
Lyla walked to her seat at the conference table and sat. Kekoa grabbed his silicon keyboard from his office and took his seat as the rest of them followed suit. Ms. Bridges sat between Jack and Kekoa, opposite from Lyla.
“I’m very sorry for what’s taken place tonight and for the way you’ve come upon information that I know Tom would’ve preferred you found out differently.” The woman tucked her hair behind her ear, giving Nic a closer look at her. She was older than he’d first guessed, lines creasing her skin with age and likely stress from the years of working intelligence. “I’ve been given permission from MI5 to read you in on the 3 September mission that killed Connor Murphy.”
Ms. Bridges continued to speak, and Kekoa’s fingers tapped furiously on the keyboard to bring up the information she was talking about, but the woman’s attention was locked on Lyla.
“Connor Murphy was the alias for an American named Sean Murphy. He had a wife, Annie, and was working undercover as a member of the Real Irish Republican Army, gathering intel about the violence being perpetuated by the paramilitary group. On 15 August 1998, a bomb killed innocent people in Omagh, Ireland. A fact”—she looked around the table—“you all probably already know. Annie was one of the victims.”
Lyla reached under the table and took hold of Nic’s hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“She was also pregnant.” Ms. Bridges looked at Lyla. “With you. You were delivered safely, and one of the nurses, an informant for the CIA, was able to get you to safety and back to your father. I don’t know what happened regarding the CIA’s actions immediately following the bombing, but a few weeks later I ran into Tom in London. He was looking for your father and stubbornly interfering in an MI5 mission.”
“Sounds about right,” Jack mumbled, and Nic saw Lyla’s lip curve upward for a second.
“Again, I don’t have all the details about the CIA’s role at that time or what it had to do with Tom and Sean, but my mission was to find out how the Real IRA was obtaining weapons, specifically US military-grade weapons. That day in London, Sean led us to a man named Rònán O’Hagan, who had organized the arms deal. But it was a setup—a fatal one. I don’t know what Tom can tell you about Sean or if the CIA will give you any information. They’re not usually forthcoming. But I’m here to tell you that without Sean’s work and sacrifice, we would not have found Eamon Flannery, the leader giving the orders for the attacks against Irish and British forces, and many, many more lives would have been lost.”
Ms. Bridges stayed still, apparently giving Lyla all she could, but would it be enough? Would Lyla see that her assumption—R.D.’s assumption—was wrong? Sean wasn’t a traitor. He sacrificed his life...
The truth hit him. Lyla was right. Her biological father’s DNA was alive in her, only it wasn’t in the rebellious, obstinate way that she’d imagined it to be. When she ran into danger, sacrificing her own safety for others, it was because that is exactly who God created her to be.
Nic felt her hand in his, and a cold realization washed over him. He was doing the same thing Brittany did. Leaving because he was afraid of Lyla’s innate drive to protect at all costs. He’d called Brittany selfish for being unwilling to accept his calling to serve in the military. And while he wasn’t asking Lyla to quit, he was expecting her to change—and that was selfish too. He didn’t want her to be anything else. And the truth, the heart-pounding truth, was that he didn’t want her to change. He had fallen in love with her...moxie.
I’m in love with her.
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m standing in as acting director until Walsh returns. I spoke with Director Bob Perkins, who is working on questioning the three men with Venezuelan passports detained at the Miami airport about their connection to the weapons seized by CIA field officers.”
“Did they find who provided the weapons?” Nic asked.
“All Director Perkins would give me was that the expediter was moving the rifles according to the bill of lading from the vendor, and they’re looking into who placed the order.”
“That’s it?” Lyla said. “How is that helpful to our investigation?”
“It’s not, but”—Jack looked at Ms. Bridges—“MI5 is asking for our assistance.”
Ms. Bridges leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “Before we ever made it into that warehouse, Sean insisted an outside source was providing the weapons to the Real IRA and that was why the trade was arranged. But we never got a name. We continued to investigate, but our leads kept dying, sometimes literally.”
Nic’s grip tightened on Lyla’s hand, and she responded with a squeeze.
“We hoped when Eamon Flannery was arrested, he’d give us a name. He didn’t, and we believe that’s because he was continuing to use that source to keep soliciting weapons deals throughout Eastern Europe. It wasn’t until Ammar El-Din was arrested and gave the interview about an American involved in the smuggling that we reopened our case. Tom said you were looking into someone calling himself Michael O’Sullivan, who claimed his identity was outed after working as an informant for the Real IRA.”
They nodded.
