Her expression softened then. The look was one filled with longing and memories she often cherished.
“Since I was barely seven and staying with Uncle Colt while my parents were out of the country on their various business trips,” she remembered with a gentle laugh. “They were spies you know. CIA agents. They met while they were both at Langley, just after they joined while in college. And they died together.”
“There’s a lot of missing information regarding Raymond and Esmerelda Broen’s lives,” he stated as he watched her double-check the cleanliness of the barrel of one of the weapons. “Their deaths and what they were chasing are two of those missing links. Did Colt tell you what happened?”
She looked up for a second, her expression stilling somberly.
“He told me.” She sighed heavily. “We had a deal. Once I managed to successfully command my first mission, then he would give me the information. Just after I did so, he told the others we were celebrating family-style. His idea of family-style was to take me to the mountain in Kandahar where my parents died. They were ambushed and killed while tracking the identity of a man rumored to head a network secretly transporting files, genetic material, Breed DNA formulas, cryogenic embryos and possibly many of the infants and young Breeds that were missing at the time.”
His brows arched. “I was unaware the CIA was working on the behalf of the Breeds. The last records we had, many of their agents were actually involved in the training and information control of the various labs.”
“My mother left a diary,” she said, “several of them, actually. She knew many of the agents who were working in just such capacities, but they were also slipping information out to those they knew were working to reveal the brutality the Breeds lived under. There were opposing interests in the CIA, according to her. Only a few substations were actually involved with the Genetics Council. Langley was actually trying to verify the rumors, track down the labs, and aid the Breeds’ escape. I gave Rachel the diary last year and I believe she turned it over to Jonas.”
Lawe nodded. “Yes, I read it. From what I read, your parents were far too reckless for a couple with two children depending upon them.”
It was a trait they tragically shared with her uncle, Colt Broen. As a mercenary, Colt had been in the perfect position to funnel information back to the States or to ensure that U.S. interests, as well as the CIA’s, were preserved.
Raymond and Esmeralda Broen had coordinated their trips with their missions, ensuring that if they weren’t home to protect their young children, then Raymond’s brother would be. Still, they had died while their children were young, and according to the reports Diane turned over after she came into the Bureau, their parents’ enemies had immediately gone after the uncle, as well as the children.
She didn’t comment on his criticism, nor could Lawe detect any emotion other than regret. There was no anger toward her parents or her uncle, and no resentment for the life she had led.
But then, he had no doubt she was able to, and definitely would, hide any emotion she didn’t want him to see.
The Breeds who had been a part of her group until the past months had taught her how to bury and conceal her emotions. As they had explained to Lawe, it had become a game between them and their “commander” to detect her moods, her emotions or other various states of being that she experienced.
In the end, Diane had become far more adept at it than either of them had imagined she would.
“Are they the reason you followed your uncle into war?” he asked her finally.
“Their enemies took care of that,” she stated, her voice hardening as she glanced up at him. “They attacked children, Lawe. They came after us like a plague and refused to give up for years. As though they would tell children any secrets they had kept from their superiors over the years.”
“If they manage to capture you again, and kill you without the information they’re looking for, do you think they would then go after Rachel and Amber?” he asked her.
Diane wanted to roll her eyes. He obviously believed he was making a point. It was a point she had no intention to acknowledge. He never lost an opportunity, never allowed a relaxed moment to be preserved.
“Ignoring me isn’t going to solve the problem facing us,” he finally warned her as Diane fought to keep from clenching her teeth.
“I’m not trying to ignore you,” she assured him as she finished reassembling the small, handheld, laser-powered personal defense weapon she usually carried strapped to her thigh.
She was lying through her teeth and he knew it. He didn’t need to smell it.
“Do you think I’m going to allow you to continue this search, Diane? To risk you against a rogue we know so little about, as well as whatever assassins have been sent out to eliminate Brandenmore’s research projects? If they’re even still alive.” It was the wrong way to go about it, and Lawe knew it, but he was damned if he could figure out a better alternative.
She laughed at him, though the sound carried no amusement. What it did carry was disillusionment and a sense of pain. He could feel her pain as though it were his own. And for the first time in his life, Lawe ached for more than his own inability to be anything or anyone other than what his past had shaped him into.
“Do I act as though I need your permission to do anything?” she asked as she repacked the weapon and turned back to him, disdain reflected clearly in her gaze. “Really, Lawe, I’m a big girl now. I don’t need your permission to stay out after dark.”