"It was once or twice, and I wasn't very good at it. I felt bad that I was taking someone's money. You never did it?"
"Nope."
"Well, you always walked a higher moral ground than I did."
"That's not true," he said sharply, anger suddenly filling his voice.
"What did I say?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
"Really? It seems like you had a rather intense reaction just now."
"I have a lot of intense reactions when you're around," he said dryly.
"I do seem to set you off." She paused along the rail, seeing her hotel just up ahead and not wanting to get there quite yet. "This is pretty. In my head, I only remember the ugliness of Chicago, but this is nice."
"They've made a lot of improvements along the river: new restaurants, bars, lots of space for walking and jogging and just hanging out." He leaned against the rail, and then gave her a curious look. "I've been wondering about something. When did you change your name to Adams?"
"In Detroit. The woman who helped me with the adoption also helped me with the name change. She got all my paperwork updated and said I was going to have a new start. I definitely needed that to complete my escape from my life, so I went with it."
"I'm sure the FBI did a background check on you. Surely, your old name came up."
"Of course. But it didn't matter. I hadn't changed it because I had done something illegal. I just wanted a new name."
"How did you pick Adams?" he asked, then a smile spread across his face. "Wait, I know the answer. It was because of that movie—The Addams Family. We must have watched that tape a dozen times at the shelter. You liked that girl—what was her name?"
"Wednesday. She was so weird and magical at the same time. And she always spoke her mind. But I do not spell my last name with two d's. That would have been odd, and I wanted to be even for the first time in my life," she said with a laugh. "I'd been odd far too long."
"You were not odd. You were beautiful; you still are, Bree."
His gaze swept across her face, bringing with it a rush of heat.
"You shouldn't say things like that, Nathan."
"Why not?"
"Because…" She had no idea how to finish her statement. "We—we're friends, well, maybe not friends, but we…" She stumbled to find appropriate words.
"You can't define us. We defy definition."
"Well, that's true." Her mouth went dry as his gaze settled on her lips. "But I don't know what you want."
"Yes, you do."
He straightened suddenly, his hands sliding around her waist, setting off a wave of anticipation. He gave her a long look that made her heart race. And then he lowered his head—so slowly her nerves were screaming.
Finally, his mouth was on hers.
She felt like she'd been waiting for his kiss forever.
Nathan took possession of her mouth as if he owned it, and she couldn't quite believe how much she liked that. His need for her was compelling, drawing forth a deeper need for him than she had expected.
And as he slanted his head to get a better angle, she went with him, putting her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his, letting go of all the reasons why they shouldn't be doing this and grabbing on to all the reasons that they should.
Nathan, the imaginative boy, and Nathan the somewhat angry teenager, merged into this Nathan, this incredibly sexy, powerful, strong man who kissed her like he was never going to let her go.
But, of course, he did eventually let her go, raising his head, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
She stared back at him in amazed confusion. "So, that happened."
His hands dropped from her waist, and he took a step back. "I'm not going to apologize."
"I didn't ask you to."
"You kissed me back," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Didn't you want me to?"
"I did. I just…" His voice drifted away. Then he said, "I didn't know if you would." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've been wanting to kiss you for a long time."
His words sent her heart racing again. "I—I didn't know that."
"I think you did," he said quietly. "But you wanted someone else."
Their gazes clung together. They had been so close at times but also so distant at others. Was he right? Hadn't she known he liked her as more than a friend? Hadn't she thought at times that his teenage anger was jealousy? But sometimes it had also just felt like dislike.
"You were hard to read in high school, Nathan."
"Maybe." He turned and looked out at the water. "It doesn't matter."
She could feel him pulling away, and she didn't like it. She put her hand on his arm and his gaze swung around to hers. "Putting our past aside, what happened just now…it was good."
His eyes brightened. "It was."
"So maybe we just agree on that, and let it be…"
"I don't know if I can just let it be—that's the problem." His phone buzzed. Taking it out of his pocket, he frowned and then silenced the call.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"It doesn't matter."
"It was Adrienne, wasn't it?" She let out a breath, seeing the answer in his face. She'd completely forgotten he was seeing someone. "You should call her."
"We're not done here."
"We should be. You have a woman in your life, and I'm leaving as soon as this case is over. We can't start anything now."
"We started all this a very long time ago, Bree. One of these days we're going to finish it."
"Maybe we finished it now. We had our kiss. It was good. That's it." She started walking, and he reluctantly fell into step alongside her.
They didn't speak until they got to the front door of her hotel. Then he said, "What if I told you I don't want this to be it? What would you say?"
She let out a breath, wrestling with reckless temptation. "I want to say—then come up to my room."
He drew in a sudden breath.
"But," she added quickly. "You have someone in your life who cares about you. Your home is here, and I'll never ever want to live in this city. This can't go anywhere, Nathan. And when I saw you at Josie's house yesterday, you said, 'let's try not to mess up each other's lives.' So, I'm going to try not to mess up your life, and I'm going to say good night."
His mouth tightened. "I liked your first answer better."
She smiled, then stole a quick kiss. "One for the road," she said, and then she turned and walked into her hotel.
Ten
Bree took the elevator to her room and then bolted the door behind her. She tossed her bag on the dresser and flopped onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, her senses spinning, her emotions in utter turmoil.
She'd kissed Nathan. She could hardly believe it. Talk about the past and the present colliding…
She wished she could say she felt good about her decision to end things with a kiss, but she didn't.
Her senses were clamoring for more Nathan, and even though her brain knew she'd done the right thing by shutting it down, her body was tingling with the idea of Nathan's mouth on hers and his hands all over her body.
Groaning, she sat up, knowing she was going around in circles.
And she had many more important things to think about.
She took her computer out of her bag and turned it on. She had no emails that needed to be answered immediately, so she went on the internet and entered the baseball forum, wondering if anyone had answered her earlier message.
Smiling, she saw a message from Parisa.
Sorry I missed you at the Rowlands' house today. Still at the same number if you want to talk. Spending a boring night watching Wyatt pick up women. Could use a break. Call me.
Seeing that the message had come in a half hour earlier, she scrambled off the bed and dug out her own burner phone to call Parisa.
Parisa had been her roommate at Quantico. A beautiful, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, Parisa had the ability to blend into many different cu
ltures. She also had the language skills to back up her appearance—fluent in French, Portuguese, Spanish, and Farsi as well as various Russian dialects. Parisa was the daughter of a former diplomat and having traveled the world, she brought an international experience that served her well. Parisa spent a lot of her time overseas, and it had been over a year since she'd last seen her.
Parisa picked up the call a moment later. "Hello?"
"It's me, Bree."
"Hang on a sec."
Bree heard some music in the background and then it got quieter, although there was now street noise in the background.
"That's better," Parisa said.
"Where are you?"
"Some bar by NYU. We came here after Jamie's celebration of life."
"How was it?"
"Sad but also oddly happy. It was bittersweet to see so many old friends, but not to see our dearest friend Jamie."
"Were there a lot of people there?"
"More than I expected—not just our tight group, but a lot of the people we went through Quantico with. It was fun to catch up. Now, however, Damon and Sophie are snuggled up together and Wyatt has two grad students hanging onto his every word. I miss my wing-woman, Bree."
"Those days feel like a long time ago."
"It has been forever," Parisa agreed.
"What about Diego?"
"He didn't make it."
"That's too bad. How are the Rowlands doing?"
"They tried to make it a joyful dinner, but I could tell that Vincent is still destroyed by the loss of his son. Cassie seems to be doing better."
"Vincent blamed himself because he'd always wanted Jamie to follow in his footsteps at the FBI. If Jamie hadn't made that decision, he might still be alive."
"Yes. He seems to carry a lot of guilt," Parisa said heavily.
"How is Wyatt doing? He wouldn't tell me where he was going after the big dust-up in New York last summer."
"Same old Wyatt—mysterious, brooding, can't really figure out what he's thinking or what he's doing. He said he's been doing some special assignments—whatever that means. Beyond that, I have no idea. Since we came to this bar, he's been all about finding some babe to hook up with." Parisa paused. "It has been nice getting to know Sophie. She's a good match for Damon."
"She is. I've gotten to know her better since she and Damon came back from their summer archaeological digs."
"Yes, they described some of their findings in great, boring detail," Parisa said with a laugh. "I never thought Damon would be into digging up old bones."
"He's in love."
"And love makes you crazy," Parisa said.
"What about you? What are you up to?"
"I'm heading to London on Sunday."
"To do what?"
"I'm not sure yet," Parisa said. "But let's get back to you, Bree. Your post had a slight note of desperation in it. Everything okay?"
"No," she said with a sigh. "I came to Chicago to consult on a kidnapping case."
"Damon told me you've been tracking someone called the White Rose Kidnapper."
"Who had been working his evil in the northeast until he made a sudden jump to Chicago. Now it seems that the kidnapper has decided to put me in the middle of his twisted game. He dug up my secret, Parisa, the one I told you about during training. He's forcing me to go back into my past, and I can't seem to stop him."
"Seriously? I thought all that was buried as deep as it could go."
"I did, too. There's a girl's life on the line, maybe the lives of two girls, and I don't know if it ends there. The kidnapper is trying to make me think that one of these girls is my daughter, the one I gave away."
"My God, Bree. That sounds bad."
She could hear the worry in Parisa's voice. "I don't know how he got all this information on me. Worse, I don't know where he's going with it."
"Maybe someone from your past is helping him. Have you run into anyone?"
"I have. But Nathan isn't helping this guy; he's trying to help me."
"Nathan, huh? Where do you know him from?"
"We grew up in the same neighborhood. He's actually the one person who knew about the baby. He helped me get out of Chicago. He helped me find a private adoption agency."
"Are you sure he's really helping you, Bree? It sounds like he could be the leak."
"It's not Nathan. I trust him completely," she said, realizing how true that was.
"Your voice just changed," Parisa said. "It got a little softer, sultrier. Is this Nathan more than a friend?"
"He wasn't…until about twenty minutes ago."
"Now we're getting to the good stuff," Parisa said with a laugh.
"Not really. I put a stop to everything."
"Why on earth did you do that?"
"There's no point in starting something that can't be finished, right?"
"Oh, I don't know. Living in the moment isn't always bad, especially in our line of work. But don't ask me about love; I never seem to make the right call." She paused. "Hang on, Wyatt is talking to me."
A moment later, Wyatt's voice came over the phone. "Where the hell are you, Bree? You should be here tonight."
"I wish I could be. How are you, Wyatt? What have you been doing?"
"Laying low."
"Is someone paying you to do that?" Of the five of them, Wyatt did the most undercover work, although his last stint had almost killed him.
"You don't think I work for free, do you?"
"Good point."
"Everything okay in Chicago?"
"I'm not sure yet. Still figuring things out. You know who is here, though? Tracy Cox."
"Cool, calculating Tracy?" Wyatt said. "Has she warmed up to you?"
"Not even a little bit. She's definitely enjoying having me report to her."
"That's a change for her. You were always out in front of her at the academy. But I have to say that even though she was a pain in the ass, she was smart."
"I'm trying to remember that. She asked me about Diego. I always wondered if something went on with those two."
"Not that I ever heard. I have to run. Keep us posted if you need anything."
"I will," she promised.
Parisa came back on the line a moment later. "As Wyatt said, if you need any help, Bree, I'm here for a few more days. Call me or post a message in the forum."
"Thanks for the offer. You guys sound like you're having fun," she said wistfully.
"We'd be having more fun if you were here. We'll have to reunite at another time."
"Definitely."
"Stay safe. And this guy—Nathan? Be careful of men from your past. It's always better to look forward than to look back."
"I'll keep that in mind." As she set down her phone, she felt both better and worse.
It had been nice to talk to Parisa, but now she felt more alone than ever. She wished she could be with her friends, celebrating Jamie's life. She wished Hayley was home safe with her family and that a little girl named Emma had never been brought into this twisted game. Most of all, she wished she knew where her daughter was, and if she was still safe.
And she really wished she knew what to do about Nathan…
* * *
Bree, Bree, Bree…
Her face went around in Nathan's head all night. He tried to shake her with every toss, every turn, but he couldn't get her or the kisses they'd shared out of his mind.
He'd wanted to kiss her forever, and it had been far better than his best dream. What had really surprised him was the way Bree had kissed him back. There had been no hint of shyness or restraint—just passion and fire and need.
And when she'd told him she was tempted to invite him upstairs to her room, he'd been tempted to push the idea, to follow her through those hotel doors and make her see that it didn't matter what happened tomorrow when they had tonight.
But he hadn't done that.
Some age-old self-defense mechanism had kicked in, reminding him that this woman had stomped on his heart mo
re than a few times.
At dawn, he gave up trying to sleep, threw on track pants, a sweatshirt and his running shoes and headed out the door. He ran down to the lake and then along the shoreline, hoping he could outrun his thoughts, but every mile brought new ideas.
What if he kissed her again? What if he took her to bed? What if he showed her what she'd been missing out on all these years?
But where the hell would that get him?
She'd eventually say good-bye again, and he probably wouldn't see her for another decade, if then.
It was just a fluke that she'd come back now. It certainly wasn't because she'd been dying to see him.
And he certainly hadn't been dying to see her. He'd gone on with his life. He'd put her out of his head. He had Adrienne.
Adrienne! He'd never called her the night before, nor had he answered any of her texts. She was going to be pissed that he hadn't met up with her and her college friend, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to go see them. Not after what had happened with Bree.
He'd never been one to fool around with more than one woman at a time.
And the fact that he could barely remember Adrienne now that Bree had returned was probably a sign that he needed to end things with her.
But was that the smartest idea?
Adrienne was easy, fun, light, bright. She came from a normal family. She didn't have dark secrets. She didn't carry emotional scars and still-healing wounds. She wasn't a magnet for trouble.
That's who he should want.
But, no, he had to be hung up on a woman who had always been a thorn in his side, who had almost gotten him killed. And it wasn't like the present was any different than the past. She was surrounded by danger and shadows, and he was getting tangled up again in her problems.
So, what was he going to do?
Walk away from Bree? Let her figure things out on her own?
Call Adrienne back and apologize? Meet her after work? Tell her he'd make last night up to her?
He picked up his pace and sprinted the last mile, hoping the right answer would come to him.
When he got home, he took a quick shower and got dressed, debating his next move—a move that didn't need to include either Bree or Adrienne.
He wanted to do his part to help Hayley, so maybe he'd go by the Jansens' house.
Reckless Whisper KO PL B Page 11
