I inclined my head slightly. “After you refused to let me leave your mother’s house without you. After you ignored my request that you stay in the van and wait for us to come back from the villa. After you fought me every step of the way, refusing me to attend to that ‘drama’ on my own?”
“Shaw—”
“You cared about me and then you just disappeared.”
“I got in over my head.”
I nodded, those words cutting through me. It was like a guy who’d asked me to prom once and then backed out. He said he’d been put up to it by his friends, but realized he really didn’t like me ‘that way’. Never mind that I was already writing my name with his surname in all my notebooks.
“Okay.” I walked to his desk and picked up the printout, then headed back to the door. “I’ll get out of your hair.”
I was out the door and halfway down the narrow hall between the lobby and the storerooms when he suddenly grabbed my wrist and twisted me around, forcing me against the wall. His lips were on mine before I could catch my breath, the feel and the taste of him more familiar than I wanted to admit. Despite every nerve in my body begging me to pull him in, to open to him, I pushed at his chest, jerking my head to the side to break the kiss.
“You can’t do that!”
“Shaw—”
“You can’t shatter my heart twice and then kiss me like that! It’s not fair.”
“I know.” He moved closer to me, his hand sliding over my throat as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’re not allowed to miss me.”
“I didn’t mean to break your heart. I just thought…every time I looked at you…but it’s not true.”
“What’s not true?”
“I thought when I looked at you all I’d see was him. That all I would think about was how dangerous your job is and how afraid I was that something horrible would happen to you. But it’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
He brushed his fingers over my jaw. “I’m looking at you now and all I see is this beautiful, intelligent woman I can’t stop thinking about.”
I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
“I do mean it. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to find you, how many things I’ve wanted to say to you. I’ve missed you every moment of every day, like we’d known each other an entire lifetime instead of a matter of days.”
I shook my head again, not wanting to believe him. If I believed him, I might begin to trust his words and actually allow myself to feel something for him. I’d done that once and woke in a strange room all alone, the smell of him still on my skin. I couldn’t do that again.
“I killed a man,” he said softly, “and it was haunting me. I thought that reality would forever be tied to you, to my feelings for you. And maybe it will be. But that’s something I think I can handle now.”
“Why now? What’s different about now?”
“Because all this time it has hurt a million times more to be away from you than it has to remember that one terrible act.”
I pushed at him again. “I don’t believe you.”
His eyes darkened, not with anger but with disappointment. And fear. He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to do, didn’t understand what he hoped to accomplish in that position. I was so involved in what he was doing that I didn’t notice the clerk had come around the far corner.
“I don’t know what to say to convince you, Shaw. I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you.” He looked up at me. “I thought I could walk away from you and not suffer the consequences. I was wrong.”
“You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“You walked into my office and I thought it didn’t matter. I thought I could prove I didn’t care anymore. But when you walked away…” His voice cracked a little. “I need you, Shaw. Please…”
“You’re Shaw Knolls?” the clerk asked, something like wonder in her voice.
Embarrassed, Malik got to his feet. “Go back to work, Marina.”
“How do you know my name?” I ask her curiously despite the private moment she had interrupted.
She had started to turn, but she paused, waving a hand at Malik. “He’s always talking about you. In fact, he never shuts up about you.”
“Me?”
She looked from him to me, smiling despite the dangerous look on his face. “One would think that he’s in love with you, the way he’s always saying your name.”
She walked off then, glancing back at him with this look that reminded me of something a teasing sister might shoot at her older brother.
“Ignore her,” Malik said, his voice very close to a growl.
“You talk about me?”
He waved his hand in annoyance. “She’s exaggerating.”
“What do you say?”
His eyes were back on my face, perhaps hearing something that gave him hope. “I’ve told her about your work, about Alison and how you fought to protect her from those men that night in the hotel.” He shrugged. “It’s impressive. Everyone read about the aftermath in the paper. I like to brag that I was there.”
“But you talk about me?”
He stroked the side of my face with the back of his fingers. “I’m proud of you. You were quite heroic that night.”
Tears pooled into my eyes again. “You don’t make sense to me. You walk away from me because you don’t want to be afraid of my job, but then you brag about it?”
He shrugged. “I’m complicated.”
“Maybe too complicated.”
I made like I was going to walk away, but he grabbed my hand and I couldn’t help but slide into his arms. I kissed him and felt his body relax against mine, felt the tension finally disappear. I ran my hand slowly up the center of his chest and sighed.
“I think maybe we should start over.”
“You think so?”
“We never went on a proper date.”
He pulled back and looked me in the eye. “That is true.”
“I think you should take me out to dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Tonight.”
“Fine. I get off at six.”
I nodded, then glanced at my wrist, pretending there was a watch there. “I think six is too long to wait.”
“Do you now?”
I took his hand in mine and pulled him down the hall and back into his office. “I think we have business we need to take care of first.”
“If you’re asking for that information, I still need to speak to our lawyers.”
I turned to face him, half the buttons on my blouse already undone. “Oh, this isn’t about that.”
He groaned, slamming his office door and turning the thumb lock on the knob. Then he pushed me back against the desk, his hands already sliding over my ass, his fingers working up my skirt.
“This I think I can handle.”
“I certainly hope so…”
Chapter 26
Joss
“…and then they lived happily ever after!”
“It doesn’t say that.”
“Sure, it does,” I said, touching my finger to the open page of the book before quickly closing it. “Don’t you know that’s how all fairy tales end?”
“Clifford the Big Red Dog isn’t a fairy tale, Mommy.”
“Are you sure?”
Aidan giggled. “I’m pretty sure.”
“But how do you know?”
“Because there’s no prince.”
I laughed. “Of course. How did I miss that?”
“There always has to be a prince. He’s the one who comes to rescue the princess.”
“Not always, Aidan,” McKelty said from the doorway. “Sometimes the princess rescues herself.”
“Nuh-uh,” Aidan said. “That’s just silly. A princess can’t save herself.”
“She can.” I winked at Aidan. “
But it’s not as romantic, is it?”
She giggled again. “Nope.”
I climbed off the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “Time to go to sleep now, peanut. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Will you be here in the morning?”
“She’s never here anymore,” McKelty answered for me.
I glanced at McKelty, wanting to correct her. But she was right. It was a rare morning anymore that I was here to see the girls off to school. Business at Gray Wolf was booming and there was still the investigation into Mahoney’s motive for wanting Carrington killed. It was taking up more time than I liked, but I couldn’t slack off. It was too important.
“I will be here tomorrow morning,” I promised Aidan as I dropped a kiss on her forehead.
I backed out of the room, smiling at my youngest child before closing the door. Then I turned to McKelty.
“Feeling a little neglected, are we?”
She shrugged. “I just don’t think you should lie to her, that’s all.”
“I don’t lie to her.”
“But you don’t always keep your promises.”
That was true, but I hated that McKelty felt the need to point it out. “You know how important my work is.”
“More important than us, obviously.”
“That’s not true!”
But she was already slamming her bedroom door, locking me out. That had become par for the course lately. I hated it, but what could I do?
My body felt heavy as I made my way downstairs. Carrington was in his study working, his head buried in a stack of paperwork that was almost as tall as I was. I paused in the doorway, but he didn’t even look up. We were back to the silent treatment, barely acknowledging each other. He was so angry about the whole Conway thing, and a part of me couldn’t blame him. I might have been pissed, too. But he had to understand that I did what I did to protect them, not to put anyone in danger.
It made me wonder if he really distrusted me that much.
He was the one who cheated and I was the one being punished. It was so unfair!
I went to the kitchen and began doing the dishes, my thoughts going places they hadn’t gone in a very long time. Maybe, in a strange sort of way, this was punishment for my past. There was once a time when I had a wonderful husband and a beautiful baby boy and I didn’t appreciate them the way I should have. I was too young and stupid, allowing myself to get overwhelmed by the normal frustrations of motherhood. I hated the constant pull my son had on me, his needs that were so intense that it felt like I never got a moment to myself. I got to the point where I broke, screaming at my husband to take the child away for a while, to give me a break.
He did, my husband. He calmly—happily, really—took our son for a ride in his old truck and neither of them ever came home again.
Was I being punished now for that? Was all this because I sent Esteban and Isaac to their deaths? Was this because my selfish demand had put them on the path of a drunk driver who cared so little for the lives he destroyed that he never stopped, never looked back? Was I being punished because I knew my friend arranged the death of that drunk driver and I did nothing to atone for it?
I was arrogant enough to think I could have a second chance at happiness. But maybe I couldn’t. Maybe I was too selfish, too bitter to find happiness. Maybe I’d just cursed this family to my own special brand of hell.
Kirkland would tell me I was being stupid. He would insist that my current troubles had nothing to do with the past and that it would all work itself out in the end.
I wished I could be as optimistic as him.
The doorbell rang as I was hanging the damp dishtowel, the dishes dried and put away. I crossed to the door, not surprised that no one else had responded. When I opened it, I was surprised to find Mike Spencer standing on my front porch. I hadn’t seen him since Carrington’s failed interview at the FBI office.
“I’m sorry to come by so late,” he said, fidgeting a little as his eyes darted behind me, clearly looking for evidence of Carrington. “Can we talk for a second?”
I stepped back and waved him into the house, but he shook his head. “Out here?”
“Yeah.” I stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind me. “What’s going on?”
He stepped off the porch and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked up at the house, taking a second before he seemed satisfied by what he saw. Or the lack of what he saw.
“I’ve been in Wyoming for the last few weeks, re-interviewing witnesses in the Mahoney case. I thought maybe someone might remember something we hadn’t caught before, something that could explain why Mahoney is so hot to get to your husband.”
“Did they?”
He shook his head. “Most of the interviews went about like the first ones did. A few remember a little more detail, but most recalled less.”
“That’s typical, isn’t it?’
He nodded, his eyes darting up to the house again. “So then I went to talk to Mahoney himself.”
I found that interesting. “Did he tip you to anything?”
He hesitated, his eyes moving over me slowly. “He really doesn’t like anyone associated with Gray Wolf. Especially Ash Grayson. Did you know that?”
“I know he was threatened by Ash’s investigation into his connection to Bazarov. That’s why he chose Carrington to take over his operations in Wyoming.”
“He wanted to hurt Ash’s relationship with you.”
“Me?”
Again, his eyes moved slowly over me like he was seeing something about me for the very first time. “I think it all comes back to you, Joss.”
“Why me?”
“You killed that Bazarov guy. You’re Ash’s right-hand person at Gray Wolf. You’re married to Carrington. Somehow you always seem to be in the middle of all of this.”
“But Mahoney isn’t coming after me. He isn’t even coming after Ash anymore. He’s after Carrington.”
“I think there’s method to his madness, I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
It was my turn to glance up at the house. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Either way, we have reliable information that he’s going to try again.”
I frowned, focusing on him. “How? Where?”
“We don’t know. But I think it would be in your best interest to allow us to put Carrington under surveillance.”
We’d discussed this before, but I hadn’t seen the benefit in it. I had a few of my operatives following him without his knowledge. If the FBI started following him around, Carrington was bound to catch on and he’d be pissed. I wasn’t sure I could handle any more of Carrington pissed.
But I’d rather have him pissed than dead.
“What if he went down to Florida for a couple of weeks? His mother has a place there.”
“I think it would be better if he stayed here. The attack will come no matter where he is, but we can protect him better here.”
I nodded. I knew he was right. But I also knew what Carrington’s first instinct would be. He’d want to take the girls and run.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“See if you can get him to come down and talk to one of our other agents. We still need to figure out what he might know.” Mike studied my face, that gentleness in his eyes again, the same look that had warmed my heart so dearly when we first met. “If it’s not about you, we need to know what it is about.”
“It’s not about me, Mike. You’re just confusing your own feelings for something that isn’t there.”
“Maybe,” he said, not even denying whatever it was that was going on with him. “But we have to look at everything. That includes you.” He stepped back up onto the porch and took my hand, holding it lightly in his. “Be careful, Joss. If this is about you, it’s very possible that it’s not just Carrington that Mahoney is after. And if that’s true—”
I jerked my hand away. “Are you telling me I should worry about my kids’ safet
y, too?”
“I’m telling you that perhaps no one around you is safe.”
I felt sick to my stomach when I let myself back into the house. Carrington was standing in the entryway, thunder on his face.
“He’s coming to the house now?”
“Carrington—”
“You can’t even try to keep it under wraps? Are you going to make out with him in front of McKelty? Will that finally put an end to this damn retribution thing you’ve got going on?”
Confused, I brushed past him, not even in the mood to hear his rants. I barely made it into the powder room, losing what little dinner I’d eaten into the commode, the words Mike had spoken floating around in my head like a bird tweeting the same few notes over and over and over.
It was bad enough, the threat against Carrington. But the children? I wouldn’t survive that. Not again.
Carrington slammed his hand against the bathroom door. “Why was he here?”
“Why do you think?”
I moved to the sink, rinsing my mouth out with cold water. Carrington was standing behind me, glaring at me in the mirror.
“It’s not over, Carrington. Mahoney is still determined to take you out.”
He hesitated for a second. “Are you sure that’s why he was here? Maybe it had more to do with his desire to see you.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t make the threat less credible.”
“You admit it, then? He’s in love with you?”
“Is that so hard for you to believe?”
We stood almost toe-to-toe, but, of course, he was so much taller than me that he towered over me. It used to make me feel safe, his height. Now it just made me feel childish and small.
I brushed past him and headed for the stairs, needing to see my daughter, needing to know she was okay. Carrington followed, snagging my wrist before I took the first step.
“You’re still my wife.”
I sighed, my stomach still roiling with sickness. I just wanted to hug my daughter and crawl into bed. I was exhausted, a state that seemed to have become permanent these past few weeks.
“What do you want me to say? He’s a colleague. We have to see each other while we’re working this Mahoney thing. You want it to stop? Let me do my damn job!”
Gray Wolf Security: Back Home Page 31
