All Cried Out (All Falls Down Book 2)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "I have to go into the office," I announce a few hours later, sliding my cell back into my pocket. I've had the locks changed, and did everything else I could to make sure we're safe here. It still doesn't feel like enough, but what else can I do?

  Savannah's just climbing out of the shower, beads of water still dripping down her gorgeous body. The jagged scars across her back draw my eyes, making me wish for the millionth time that I'd killed McKee when I had the chance. Instead, I systematically ruined his cushy little life and sent him back to Italy. His educational career is over, his reputation ruined, and his assets frozen. He's wanted on felony charges in the state of California, and he'll never get anywhere near my girl again. The minute he steps foot on United States soil, he'll be arrested and extradited to San Francisco for attempted murder and aggravated assault. It's not nearly enough when what I really wanted to do was make the bastard bleed, but it's the best I could manage without breaking the law six ways to Sunday.

  Savannah spins to face me, a towel in hand. "They called you in so soon?" she asks, frowning deeply. "I thought they'd give you a little more time. You just finished at T.I. yesterday."

  "It is what it is," I tell her quietly, reaching out to pluck the towel from her limp fingers. I wrap it around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I can't put it off forever, love."

  "They won't fire you," she whispers, burrowing into my chest. "They can't."

  Oh, they can. But I don't tell her that. She has enough on her mind, and for reasons I'll never be able to fathom, she feels like this is her fault. It's not, of course, not even remotely. I'm the one who screwed up. Because of me, she was kidnapped by Paulson and Madeline Talbot was seriously injured by McKee. I endangered everyone and blew my cover in the process. There's no way I'm walking away from that with my career untouched.

  Added to the bodies piled up because of Paulson, the FBI has every right to fire me, and I won't blame them if they do. It'll suck, but there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm just relieved they waited long enough for me to tie up loose ends at T.I. and pass Lexi off to Evans. Endangering the Talbot girls further wouldn't have helped matters, and I'm grateful my superiors saw that.

  "I'm sorry," Savannah whispers, guilt heavy in her voice.

  "Stop." I tilt her face up to mine and smile down at her. "I told you before that I never intended to go into law enforcement, beautiful girl. But they gave me a shot anyway, and I've been able to do a lot of good along the way. If my career is over now, I have no regrets. I got you out of this. That's all I'll ever need."

  She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, unconvinced.

  "I'd give up so much more if it meant keeping you," I murmur to her. "You're all I need in this life, Savannah Elise Martin, don't you know that by now, baby?"

  Her eyes soften, worry melting from her expression. "You're everything, Jared."

  I brush my mouth across hers slow and gentle as heat unfurls inside at her words. Christ, she has no idea what she does to me when she says things like that to me, no idea how much she means to me. I'd walk through hell for this girl and enjoy every minute of it.

  I deepen our kiss, pulling her bottom lip into my mouth and biting before flicking my tongue against hers. Pulling back slowly, I watch her eyes flutter open. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips swollen from my kisses.

  She looks like sin.

  I take a reluctant step away from her before I lose the ability to remember why I can't carry her to bed and make love to her again. "Get dressed, love," I murmur. "I'll take you to class."

  "I don't have class today," she says, frowning at me again. "They're having an in-service session. I'm meeting Kit and Maddi for a spa day and shopping before the reception tonight, remember?"

  "Of course." I shoot her a calm smile, hoping she doesn't question it. The truth is, I forgot all about her plans with the girls. More immediate concerns have held my attention, but now that she's reminded me, I desperately want to tell her to reschedule. I bite my tongue instead.

  She was right this morning: I can't lock her up every time something goes wrong. I have to trust that she'll be okay or I'm going to lose my mind worrying every time she steps out of our front door. It's been six months, and until last night, nothing has happened aside from the media showing up. For both of our sakes, I have to believe that hasn't changed.

  But it has. I feel it deep in my gut. And no matter how much I don't want to scare her or lock her away like she said, I can't just stand around and risk her safety either. We'll stay here because that's what she needs, but we aren't doing it without reinforcements. Until I know for certain that everything is okay, if I can't be with her, someone I trust will be.

  She watches me for a long moment before shrugging a shoulder and turning back to the mirror to get ready to go. "I'll be finished soon. I just need to dry my hair and get dressed."

  I brush a kiss across her shoulder before slipping from the room and pulling my cell from my pocket to call the only person I can think of to can keep an eye on her today without making her feel like she's being babysat: Katrina Talbot's boyfriend, Grayson Barker. He's only twenty-two, but he's more than capable of protecting the girls.

  "Grayson? It's Jared…."

  Chapter Five

  Freight Train

  "Corbit," Nathan Richardson looks up at me from behind his massive desk, his dark eyes grave behind his glasses, his expression somber. He's all hard-ass cop with crew cut hair, a square jaw, and double holsters strapped over his button down. "Have a seat."

  I'd rather stand, but Richardson isn't the kind of guy who offers invitations or polite requests. That was a demand, and I'm not stupid enough to balk. Instead, I slide into the ornately-carved chair across from his desk, linking my hands together across my stomach, trying to appear calm and collected.

  "You finished at Talbot International yesterday?" Richardson asks, shuffling through a stack of papers on his desk without looking at me again.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good."

  We sit in silence for long moments as Richardson snags a pen from the fancy mug on his desk and scrawls his name across one of the papers in front of him. The pen scratches against the page where he presses it firmly.

  I grit my teeth, trying to find a little patience when he continues signing off on documents without speaking to me again. I'm in no position to bitch about his manners or lack thereof, especially when he holds the key to my future. One stroke of that pen, and I'm out of a job, blackballed. I wish he'd get on with it already. Now that the moment's here, I just want to get it over with.

  "We received word yesterday that Toby McKee is back in the United States."

  What the fuck? I jerk my head up, blinking.

  Richardson slides a folder across his desk to me. "Apparently he flew into Tijuana and drove in from there. He's American and his family is rather influential, so Border Patrol didn't bother running him through the system until he was already stateside."

  Flipping the folder open, I see the smug bastard's face staring up at me, malevolence in his dark eyes. Beneath the older passport photo is a set of security photographs from the Border. One shows him behind the wheel of a small passenger car. The other is a photo of the car as it passes into California, the license plate barely decipherable.

  He's back in California.

  My fingers clench around the folder, rage sparking through me. "Someone attempted to break into our apartment last night," I mutter.

  Richardson says nothing.

  I lift my gaze to his to see him watching me with that same somber expression.

  "He's come back for her." Just saying those words out loud makes me want to wrap my hands around McKee's throat. He's done enough damage to my girl; I'll be damned if I let him do any more.

  "It's likely," Richardson agrees with a nod. "Men like him don't like losing what they think belongs to them. With what happened with Paulson, you and Savannah have become persons of interest to the media and the world a
t large. It's unlikely he hasn't seen the coverage, or news that you're engaged. He's unstable, emotionally volatile. With the protection order in place and the active warrants against him, he won't be able to secure a weapon legally, but you need to be prepared should he come for her."

  I blow out a breath and rake a hand through my hair, trying to rein in my temper. Richardson's only doing his job, preparing me for what we both know all too well: men like Toby McKee don't like losing. It makes them violent, vengeful… deadly. If McKee is back, he's as volatile as Richardson said, capable of anything. Only a fool would risk attempted murder and assault charges, but he has. That doesn't reek of sanity to me. Nothing about McKee ever has.

  "I can't protect her on my own." I hate admitting that, but it's true. Without the backing of the FBI, I'm limited as to what I can do, and finding that fucker before he shows up at our door again will take some doing.

  "We're aware," Richardson says. He bends his dark head back to the stack of papers in front of him, signing away for long moments before he whips one out and holds it out to me. "You're being placed on special assignment until further notice. I want you with San Francisco on this one; let them use your knowledge of the son of a bitch to help find him."

  I blink at the paper in my hand and then glance up at Richardson.

  "We messed up when we pulled your fiancée's tail, and it shouldn't have gone down like that," he says quietly. "We all recognize that, but the truth is, someone's going to lose their job over this, and chances are it will be you. It's shitty, but with the media involved, there's no sweeping this under the rug. Too many people died. Your fiancée was kidnapped by a Talbot son we didn't even know existed. People have questions and they want answers. But that doesn't mean someone has to fall on the proverbial sword today. As far as the media needs to know, we're still investigating what happened. Protect your girl and her family from McKee, and we'll deal with the rest of it afterward."

  "I– thank you, sir." I don't know what else to say. I walked in the door expecting to hand over my badge and my weapon. Instead, he's sending me back out to look after Savannah with the support of the FBI. No way am I going to ask why now.

  "You're good at what you do, Corbit. It'll be a damn shame to lose you." Richardson rises from his chair and extends a hand toward me. "Look after that pretty fiancée of yours. And make sure that bastard doesn't get near her, hmm?"

  "Yes, sir." I shake his hand before shoving McKee's file under my arm and spinning on my heel to exit his office. Folding the sheet of paper containing my orders, I slip it into the file. My heart pounds erratically. Instinct has been nagging at me since the moment I heard Savannah scream last night, but I didn't expect this. I was certain the bastard wouldn't risk prison time by coming back here.

  I hate being wrong.

  I stride with purpose through the FBI's San Francisco's headquarters, barely sparing a nod to those who greet me. I've been working undercover for so long, I don't know anyone beyond Richardson and my handler. I was a secret, hidden away so I could do the job they hired me to do.

  Corporate Espionage is a nasty business.

  I think I'm actually looking forward to being done with it. To being able to settle down in one place with Savannah and not have to pretend I'm someone I'm not. No more endless nights of plastering a fake smile on my face and acting like there's nowhere I'd rather be than at another function for another company. Christ, I hated that part of the job… the constant schmoozing with people I can't stand.

  "Agent Corbit?" someone says when I push through the front doors and out into the sunshine.

  I turn my head and curse. The middle-aged reporter from yesterday stands against the side of the building, her arms wrapped around her again.

  "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Do you people ever back off?" I demand, stalking past her. I'm sick of reporters shoving cameras in my face.

  "Wait." She reaches out and clamps a hand down on my arm. She looks haggard from up close, younger than I first assumed. Her eyes are a familiar brown, and almost… sad. That fact doesn't thaw me any.

  "How many times do I have to say no comment before you get it?" I snap, yanking my arm away. "I'm not telling you about the Talbot family or the case, and I'm damn sure not telling you about my fiancée or what she went through. Savannah isn't a fucking news story, and our personal lives aren't for public consumption. Back the hell off."

  "I'm her mother," the woman blurts. "Savannah is my daughter."

  I freeze mid-step and spin to face her. "Don't."

  She watches me warily, but doesn't say anything else.

  I desperately want to call bullshit, but staring at her… I see it. The similarity. She has Savannah's eyes and nose. Her hair is limp and dull, but it's like Savannah's too, long and dark with natural highlights woven throughout the thick mass. She's Savannah's mother.

  Son of a bitch.

  "What do you want?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, refusing to bend, to yield to this woman. She abandoned my girl, just walked away from her and destroyed Savannah. I've never hit a woman before, but I want to hit this one for what she did, and for daring to show up here now. She may have given birth to Savannah, but she isn't her mother, and I'll be damned if I let her hurt my girl again.

  "I-" Melinda licks her lips, her eyes darting around. "I just want to see her."

  "You want to see her," I repeat.

  She bobs her head.

  "So what, you see her on the news, and now you want to swoop back in and play the concerned mother?" I ask, clenching my fists at my side as red-hot rage boils through me. How dare she show up here now? "Fuck that. You walked away from her when she needed you. You don't get to come crashing back into her life now to act like you give a damn."

  "It's not like that," Melinda whispers, her expression falling. "I never meant to hurt her. I never wanted to leave her." She shakes her head quickly back and forth, trying to deny the past or spin it or whatever it is people like her do. "I loved my daughter. I've always loved her."

  "Bullshit. You don't walk away from people you love." I glare at her. "She was fourteen years old and you just packed up your shit and disappeared."

  "I thought I was doing what was best for her," she whispers, wringing her hands. "She deserved so much more than I could give her. The Talbots were good for her. They took care of her in ways I never could, gave her things I never could."

  I rock back on my heels, raking a hand through my hair. "That's what this is about," I say, caught off guard though I'm not sure why. "She's worth millions now, and you want a piece." Matthew Talbot left Savannah a massive inheritance when he died, enough to ensure she'd never want for anything. Savannah barely touches it. She feels guilty, like she took it away from the Talbot sisters, but they'll never want for anything either. Neither will their kids or their kids' kids.

  "That's not what this is about," Melinda says.

  "No?" I eye her for a long moment when she shakes her head, denying it. Every part of me wants to walk away from this woman and not look back. Savannah shouldn't have to deal with this now. What am I even supposed to say to her? Baby, I'm so sorry but your past has come back to haunt you? Your mother and Toby McKee are both in town.

  "Did you come to our home last night?" I ask.

  "No. I-I didn't want to just show up on her doorstep."

  I stare at her for a moment, not sure if I believe her or not, not sure if I want to believe her or not. It'd be easy, so much easier, to blame her for the attempted break-in than to face the reality that Toby McKee is back. Except… I'm not so sure that would make it easier for Savannah. Knowing her mother is back is going to kill her without her thinking the woman tried to break into our home. And I can't allow that. I won't.

  "Just hear me out, please," Melinda pleads with me when I open my mouth to tell her to stay away from Savannah. "If you don't like what I have to say, I'll leave. I will."

  I want to refuse… but I can't. I have to hear her out, find out what she wa
nts with my girl.

  Fucking hell.

  "Fine." I jerk my head toward the Jag parked at a meter a few yards up the road. "Get in."

  Melinda and I sit across from one another at a hole-in-the-wall diner in the middle of nowhere half an hour outside of San Francisco. I don't know why I chose this place, but I didn't want a reporter to see us together and plaster her face all across the news. That's not how I want Savannah to find out her mother is back in town. If I even tell her. I'm not so sure I should.

  Melinda glances around the empty diner, down at her coffee, out the window… everywhere but at me as I stare at her, trying to figure out how the hell she could just walk away from someone like Savannah and not look back. How messed up does a person have to be to leave a child behind and not even attempt to make contact for over eight years?

  "I'm sorry," she blurts out suddenly, her gaze darting to mine.

  I arch a brow. "For what?"

  "For dragging you into this," she says, wrapping her hands tightly around her coffee mug. "You don't owe me anything, but I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. H-how is my daughter?"

  I open my mouth to tell her that she doesn't get to ask questions like that, and then I sigh. She looks so much like Savannah did the first time I laid eyes on her, doubt mingling with fear on her face, her eyes wide and haunted, bruised beneath from lack of sleep. It's almost eerie.

  "She's happy," I say carefully.

  Melinda's shoulders sag, relief blooming across her haggard face. "That's good."

  We sit quietly while the waitress refills our mugs.

  "She was always such a gentle kid, so quiet and soft-spoken. I worried, you know? That someone would take advantage of that, use her kindness against her. You really love her though." Tears swim in Melinda's eyes.

  I don't owe the woman anything, but I find myself softening a little. "Yeah, I do. She's my world."

  Melinda nods and dabs at her eyes with a napkin. "I'm glad she has you to look out for her."

  "She didn't always," I murmur. "She spent two years in Italy with a guy who wasn't good for her. He was abusive, manipulative. She almost died because of him."