As Virginia made her way down the stairs, she stopped for a moment to listen over her shoulder, content that her family was safe and sound and asleep in their rooms. The house was always its quietest early in the morning, and she enjoyed the twenty minutes of alone time she treated herself to at the start of each day.

Reaching the bottom she turned left and headed for the kitchen to get the coffee started, wondering if there were any eggs left in the—

Her peripheral vision barely caught the minor movement in the living room. Fear and adrenaline shot through her veins as she spun around, ready to bolt back to the stairs and block passage. It took her a moment to notice the messy blonde crown resting on the arm of the couch.

"Steve?" she called out as loud as she could without waking the others.

There was a show of bare legs and a naked torso as the man scrambled into a sitting position.

Virginia felt her body droop as terror shifted into relief. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry," he muttered, making a grab for the blanket that had fallen to the floor and pulling it up to cover all that exposed flesh.

She walked over and joined him, not missing the light reflecting off the steel blade sitting next to his leg before he shifted to cover it up. She should have been used to the knives they all carried by now, but seeing one out in the open like that still stirred up a feeling of dread.

"You slept down here?" she asked him.

"Yeah."

"Why aren't you up in the guest room?"

He scrubbed a hand down his face. "I'm closer to vulnerable entry points here."

She froze.

Suddenly, Steve started shaking his head, an indication that the dread must have seeped its way into her expression. "No," he rushed to reassure her. "It's all cool. I'm just bummed about us losing that poser yesterday, that's all. And then having him show up here only to disappear again, like a fu– er, freaken ghost. It kinda tripped me out."

"It wasn't your fault, Steve." The man looked exhausted and she doubted it was due to one night on the couch. "Have we been working you too hard? When's the last time you took some time off, spent time with your buddies or . . ." She tilted her head. "Been out on a date?"

"I'm fine." Steve rolled his eyes at first, then slowly slid them in her direction. "Except, now that you mention it . . ."

"Yes?"

"How well do you know Angela Chilvati?"

"Pretty well since she's been— Oh." Virginia couldn't hold back the grimace. If he was attracted to Angela, he was in for disappointment. "Angela, Steve?"

He looked down at his feet. "Out of my league, huh?"

"No! Of course not. It's just . . . I don't think she's interested in dating right now. What with running the company and dealing with . . . well, you know."

"Yeah, I kinda got that vibe."

"I do work with some wonderful single young women if you're interested." Although she doubted Steve needed help finding a date, sometimes it was easier to let someone else make the arrangements on short notice. "You need to get out and relax."

"Nah, I'd be lousy company. I'm way too hot-headed right now."

Hardheaded was more like it. He would never admit needing help, just like the rest of them. Including her husband. She knew better than to push the subject. "How's your brother doing?"

"Good." Steve checked his watch and pointed to the laptop on the table in front of them. "We're having a video chat in a few if you want to stick around."

She smiled. "I'd like that. Let me go make coffee. Want one?"

"Chyeah, that'd be awesome. Thanks."

In the kitchen, she rushed, not wanting to miss the chance to see Bruce. It had been months since they'd last talked, and with all that was going on, she felt even more urgency in connecting with him.

On the way back, she saw Steve was already on the call, but he'd obviously had time to pull on his clothes from the previous day. "Dude, check it out, look who's here," she heard him say.

She handed Steve one of the mugs, the steam curling up from the rim like the wave in a woman's hair. Then she sat down next to him with her own, close enough to be included in the corner window of the computer's camera feed.

"Virginia," Bruce all but sang. "How are you? How's the new house?" There was a slight delay between the visual and the voice, but it was clear and audible and the man on screen looked exactly the same—short hair, dark eyes, cocky smile. Man, she'd missed that smile.

"We are pretty much settled. How are you and Claire doing over there?"

"Good, good. Claire has isolated the strain and we're currently working on finding the source. We figure mold in an old air conditioning system at one of the bases is the culprit." Affection, or perhaps it was awe and utter respect, caused his smile to deepen. "She'll find it."

Their conversation remained light, focused mainly on his work and her kids—until a pause in the flow had Bruce's eyes narrowing. "So, how is it that the two of you are together at six in the morning?" His stare locked onto his brother. "You look like shit by the way."

"Thanks, man, and you look a little whipped if you ask—"

"Steve is staying with us," Virginia blurted. "He slept on the couch last night."

The smile faded as Bruce shifted a little closer to his monitor, like it would give him a better view of the situation. "What's going on?"

"Pino Trovato is back and making threats, trying to take over where Gus left off. Someone else has been following Janine. That's why Steve is here."

"Fuck," Bruce muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Once you're done there, it'd be great if you came straight home," Virginia added, not caring if it sounded selfish. When it came to her family, she had no desire to mince words.

Bruce nodded. "As soon as I can." He looked to his brother. "You doing okay?"

Expecting one of Steve's usual low-key responses, Virginia was shocked when he backed her up with a tired sounding, "You should come home."

That dread suddenly took on Godzilla proportions, stomping all over the brave faces and reassurances Virginia had given herself and everyone around her. Bruce seemed to be dealing with the same monster, his face deadpan on the screen in front of them.

A soft beeping started, warning them that their time was almost up. "As soon as I can," he repeated before the feed cut out.

"Doesn't this look cozy."

Virginia turned her head to the man standing behind them holding Simon on one hip. She knew every nuance in that voice, well enough to know Mark was agitated. How long has he been standing there? "That was Bruce. You should have come up to say hi."

"Looks like you two had that covered."

Steve started gathering up his things. "Time for a shower," he said, raising his brows when he glanced her way.

Without another word, Mark spun on his heels and headed toward the kitchen. Virginia followed, noting the stiffness in his shoulders. Something was definitely up. Simon seemed to sense it too, growing still while he stared at his father's profile.

"Steve slept on the couch last night," Virginia told him as he opened the fridge and leaned into it. He was doing everything he could to avoid looking at her.

"This house is wired up better than the Pentagon," he spoke into the cold interior. "There was no need for you to ask him to do that."

"I didn't. I don't know why you'd assume that."

Suddenly, he straightened and spun around. "Well, let's see." Fury gleamed in those blue eyes, the Sub-Zero bearing the brunt of it, bottles rattling with the forceful shove on its door. He stepped closer. "Maybe because I just heard you begging Bruce to come home."

"That was—"

"I can protect my own family," Mark shouted, slamming his palm down on the granite next to her, making both her and Simon jump.

Simon started to cry.

Mark looked stunned for a moment, as if shocked by his own anger. Virginia had to wonder how much of his reaction had to do with Walt's attack. Was it still eating him up inside that he wasn't the one who'd saved her? That was far too much guilt to be carrying around all this time.

Mark began rubbing the tiny back, trying to soothe away the tears. "Shit," he murmured, looking defeated.

"I'll take him." Virginia lifted her arms and Simon reached for her immediately. After the exchange was made, she stepped in close to her husband, lifted up onto her toes, and kissed him. Firmly. On the lips. Easing back, she brought a hand to his cheek. "I know you can protect us, but asking for help is not a crime either."

It was hard to tell if she was getting through to him. She moved her hand to his shoulder and gave it a little rub. "You want breakfast? I'll even let you cook," she offered with her usual sarcasm.

Silence from him hurt more than any yelling ever could. "Mark, I—"

"I'll pick something up on the way to the office." He stepped around her and left, his long strides taking him out of the kitchen in the blink of an eye.

Virginia turned her attention to the baby in her arms. Simon had stopped crying but his chin was still quivering. "It's okay, sweet pea. Daddy's just a little grumpy." She hugged him tight to her chest and kissed the dark head of curls, watching as Mark took the stairs to their bedroom two at a time. "Mommy too."

)l(

The door up ahead opened before Robbie had even reached the steps of the front porch. The man rushing out didn't see her at first, too focused on locking things up behind him. Crisp and clean khaki and green was his wardrobe choice of the day—and every day no doubt. She was now intimately familiar with how much maintenance and attention it took to keep the uniform looking that way.

Once finished, he turned, started, and drew his brows down low. "Can I help you?" he grouched, looking her over. "Weren't you here yesterday?"

"Yes, but nobody answered the door."

He lifted his chin. "I despise solicitors."

So much for military courtesy. "I'm looking for Wendy Alexander."

"You're out of luck. She's not here."

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Never, if I can help it."

Ouch.

He started to leave, moving down the steps and brushing past her without a word.

"Wait!" Robbie rushed to keep up with him. After a whole list of wives playing the dutiful role, this was different, and in her experience, different was promising. "Do you know where I can find her? She's . . ." Softening the truth seemed unnecessary at this point. That, and she was running out of driveway. "A potential witness."

"You a cop?" he shot back, reaching for the handle of his F150.

She came to a stop when he did. "FBI. I'm working with Captain Sullivan."

He spun around, giving her a closer look. She'd taken a risk. Colonel Shaw had his share of supporters on base, but there were plenty of doubters too.

Suddenly, his stare dropped to the ground and stayed there. "We're getting a divorce."

"Sorry." Was that even appropriate in these circumstances? She hadn't a clue.

He seemed to catch himself, stiffening his spine with a muttered, "Save your sympathy for someone who cares." Wrenching open the truck's door, he gave her one last harsh look. "She's renting an apartment somewhere in Arlington. That's all I know."

He climbed in, slammed the door, and drove off, leaving a stranger standing in his driveway.

Wow. That must have been one helluva breakup.

It took Robbie twenty minutes to track down Wendy Alexander, another forty to drive over there. The woman was much more receptive to strangers at her door than her soon-to-be ex-husband, given the smile on her face when she opened it wide. Average in height, slim, early forties, she fit the pattern set by all the other women Robbie had met on the list.

"Are you Wendy Alexander?"

The woman nodded.

Robbie held up her badge. "I'm Agent Westcott with the FBI."

The friendly smile evaporated. Wendy pulled at the two sides of her cardigan, double-breasting the front and securing it closed with crossed arms. As though she were facing the dead of winter instead of the current seventy-eight degrees displayed on the Jeep's dash.

"I'm working with Captain Sullivan on the defense team for Colonel Shaw. Do you have a minute to answer some questions?"

Wendy had grown pale, and Robbie anticipated another door being shut in her face, but the woman surprised her with a softly spoken, "Come in." 

Stepping back from the doorway, she gestured down the hall. "I've been expecting you."

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

How are all my Bruce fans doing? I know you appreciated that!👏👏👏👏

What do you think of Mark's reaction? Do you think he's being ridiculous or is he justified in his feelings? Could he possibly be insecure? A little jealous maybe?🙀

Looks like Robbie's luck has changed. Who do you think Wendy Alexander is?🤔

***PLEASE NOTE*** I'm having company next week, so I may have to skip Sunday's update 🤦🏻‍♀️I'll do my best, but it is hard to sneak away when you are supposed to be fun and entertaining🙆🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️Rest assured, there will be one the following week!!!! 🙇🏻‍♀️

As always, votes ✨and comments 💬are very much appreciated💛Thank you for reading!