Beautiful Redemption (Maddox Brothers #2)

by Jamie McGuire

I blinked a few times and looked up. “Oh. Yes, sorry.” I stood to let him by, and then I returned to my seat, trying not to shrink under Thomas’s unfaltering stare.

  Tessa placed the appetizers on the table along with three small plates. She filled Thomas’s half-empty glass, the dark merlot splashing inside, but I put my hand over mine before she could pour.

  Sawyer lifted his glass to his lips, and an awkward silence hung over the table while the rest of the restaurant hummed with a steady chatter, broken up only by intermittent laughter.

  “Did you tell her about Camille?” Sawyer asked.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my mouth suddenly felt parched. I gulped the last of the red liquid in my glass.

  Thomas bared his teeth and squinted his eyes, looking regretful. “Did you tell Tessa about that rash?”

  Sawyer nearly choked on his wine. Tessa tried to think of something to say but failed, and after a few bounces, she retreated to the kitchen.

  “Why? Why are you such an asshole?” Sawyer said.

  Thomas chuckled, and I fought a smile but lost, giggling into my water glass.

  Sawyer began to laugh, too, and he shook his head before slathering his slice of pita with hummus. “Well played, Maddox. Well played.”

  Thomas looked up at me from under his brow. “How are you getting home, Liis?”

  “You’re driving me.”

  He nodded once. “I didn’t want to assume, but I’m glad you agree.”

  “THANK YOU,” I said quietly.

  I tried not to look at the sliver of beautifully tanned skin between Thomas’s belt and the bottom hem of his white T-shirt. He was hanging the painting, one of the first things I’d purchased after training. It was a canvas print, wrapped around wood, and it was too heavy to be wall decor.

  “It’s creepy as hell,” Thomas said, stepping off my dining room chair onto the carpet.

  “It’s a Yamamoto Takato. He’s my favorite Japanese modern artist.”

  “Who are they?” Thomas asked, referring to the two sisters on the painting.

  They were resting outside at night. One sister was looking on, quietly enjoying whatever mischief was happening before them. The other was looking back at Thomas and me, sullen and bored.

  “Spectators. Listeners. Like us.”

  He looked unimpressed. “They’re weird.”

  I crossed my arms and smiled, happy that they were finally in their place. “He’s brilliant. You should see the rest of his work. They’re tame in comparison.”

  His expression told me he didn’t approve of this new piece of information.

  I lifted my chin. “I like them.”

  Thomas took in a breath, shook his head, and sighed. “Whatever frosts your cookies. I guess I’ll, uh…head out.”

  “Thanks for taking me home. Thanks for the anchor. Thanks for hanging the girls.”

  “The girls?”

  I shrugged. “They don’t have names.”

  “Because they’re not real.”

  “They’re real to me.”

  Thomas picked up the chair and returned it to the table, but he gripped the top, leaning over a bit. “Speaking of things that aren’t real…I’ve been trying to think of a way to talk to you about certain aspects of the trip.”

  “Which ones?”

  He stood up and walked toward me, leaning down just inches from my face, slightly turning his head.

  I pulled away. “What are you doing?”

  He backed off, satisfied. “Seeing what you would do. I was right to bring this up now. If I don’t show affection, they’ll know something is up. You can’t pull away from me like that.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Really? That wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction just then?”

  “Yes…but I’ve let you kiss me before.”

  “When you were drunk,” Thomas said with a smirk. He walked to the middle of the room and sat on my couch like he owned the place. “That doesn’t count.”

  I followed him, watched him for a moment, and then sat on his right, leaving not even air between us. I nuzzled my cheek against his chest and slid my hand across his rigid abdomen before digging my fingers into his left side, just enough so that my arm stayed in place.

  My entire body relaxed, and I crossed my right leg over my left, letting my calf overlap his knee so that every part of me was at least a little bit draped over him. I cuddled up against him with a smile because Thomas Maddox—the astute, always-in-control Special Agent—was as still as a statue, his heart thundering in his chest.

  “I’m not the one who needs practice,” I said with a grin. I closed my eyes.

  I felt his muscles ease, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, letting his chin rest on top of my head. He let all the air escape from his lungs, and it seemed like a long time before he took another breath.

  We stayed that way, without anywhere to be, listening to the quietness of my condo and the noise from the street. Tires still sloshed against the wet asphalt, horns honked, doors from cars slammed. Once in a while, a person would shout, car brakes would whine, and a dog would bark.

  Inside, sitting with Thomas—on the very couch we’d christened the night we met—felt like an alternate universe.

  “This is nice,” he said finally.

  “Nice?” I was mildly offended. I thought it felt amazing. No one had held me that way since Jackson in Chicago, and even then, it hadn’t felt like this.

  I didn’t think that I would miss someone touching me, especially when I hadn’t appreciated Jackson’s affection before. But being without it for less than a month had made me feel lonely, and maybe even a little depressed. That was typical for anyone, I imagined, but I was sure that the sadness wouldn’t have come so strong and so soon had I not experienced Thomas’s hands on me during my first night in San Diego. I’d had to miss them every day after that.

  “You know what I mean,” he said.

  “No. Why don’t you tell me?”

  His lips pressed against my hair, and he inhaled, deep and peaceful. “I don’t want to. I just want to enjoy it.”

  Fair enough.

  I opened my eyes, alone and lying on my couch. I was still fully dressed, covered with the wool throw that had been folded on the chair.

  I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and then paused. “Thomas?” I called. I felt ridiculous. It was worse than the morning after our one-night stand.

  My watch read three a.m., and then I heard a bump upstairs. I looked up with a smile. It was nice knowing that he was so close. But then I heard something else, something that made my stomach turn.

  A groan.

  A moan.

  A yelp.

  Oh God.

  A rhythm of bumping against a wall along with moans began to filter down to my condo, and I looked around, not knowing what to think. Did he leave here and go to Cutter’s? Meet a girl? Take her home?

  But Thomas wouldn’t do that. I had been the only one since…maybe I’d gotten him out of his slump.

  Oh God.

  “Oh God!” a woman’s muffled cry repeated my thought aloud, filling my condo.

  No. This has to stop.

  I stood up and began to search for something long to bang against the ceiling. His embarrassment didn’t matter in the least. I didn’t even care if I was that neighbor—the spinster downstairs who didn’t like hearing music, loud laughter, or sex. I just needed that woman’s abnormally loud orgasm to stop.

  I climbed onto the dining room chair, the same one Thomas had used earlier, with a broom in hand. Just before I started banging the handle against the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.

  What in the hell?

  I opened it, fully aware that either I looked absolutely insane or the person on the other side of the door would be the crazy one, and I would have to use the broom on some psycho.

  Thomas was standing in the doorway with dark circles under his eyes, looking exhausted. “Can I stay here?”

  “W
hat?”

  “Why are you holding a broom?” he asked. “It’s after three in the morning. Are you cleaning?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you have company?”

  He looked around, seeming confused by my question, and then shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Yes.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at your place then?”

  “Uh…I’m not getting much sleep up there.”

  “Clearly!”

  I tried to slam the door, but he caught it and followed me inside.

  “What is wrong with you?” he asked. Then, he pointed to the stray dining room chair. “What’s up with the chair?”

  “I was going to climb up on it and use this!” I said, holding out the broom.

  “For what?” His nose wrinkled.

  “On the ceiling! To make it stop! To make her stop!”

  Recognition lit his eyes, and he was instantly embarrassed. “You can hear that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes. The whole building can hear it.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Liis.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I seethed. “It’s not like we…it’s not real.”

  “Huh?”

  “Please don’t apologize! It just makes me feel more pathetic!”

  “Okay! I’m sorry! I mean…”

  I sighed. “Just…go.”

  “I…was going to ask if I could stay here tonight. But I guess if you can hear her—”

  I tossed the broom at him, but he hopped over it.

  “What the hell, Liis?”

  “No, you can’t stay here! Go back upstairs to your one-night stand! Seems like you’ve become a pro.”

  His eyes grew wide, and he held up his hands. “Oh! Whoa. No. That wasn’t…that’s not me. Up there. With her.”

  “What?” I closed my eyes, completely confused.

  “I’m not with her.”

  I glared at him. “Obviously. You just met her.”

  His hands were moving back and forth in a horizontal motion. “No. I’m not up there, fucking her.”

  “I know,” I emphasized each word. I might as well have been talking to a wall.

  “No!” he yelled in frustration.

  The banging began again, and we both looked up. The woman began to yelp, and a low moan filtered through the ceiling—a man’s voice.

  Thomas covered his face. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Someone has a woman in your condo?”

  “My brother,” he groaned.

  “Which one?”

  “Taylor. He’s staying here for a few days. He texted me, wondering why I wasn’t at home. I left here to meet him upstairs, but when I got there, he was pissed about something and didn’t want to sit at the condo. So, I took him over to Cutter’s. Agent Davies was there, and—”

  I pointed to the ceiling. “That’s Agent Davies?”

  Thomas nodded his head.

  “Oh, thank God,” I said, covering my eyes with my hand.

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “Nothing.”

  Davies cried out.

  I shook my head and pointed to the door. “You’ve got to tell them to quit that shit. I have to get some sleep.”

  Thomas nodded again. “Yeah. I’ll go.” He turned for the door, but then he stopped, flipped around, and pointed at me. “You thought that was me. You were pissed.”

  I made a face. “No, I wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, you were. Admit it.”

  “So what if I was?”

  “Why were you mad?” he asked, his eyes begging me for something.

  “Because it’s three a.m., and I should be sleeping.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  I knew exactly what he meant, and he knew that I was trying to play dumb.

  He smiled. “You thought that was me banging some chick from the bar, and you were mad at me. You were jealous.”

  After several seconds of being unable to come back with a believable response, I blurted out, “So?”

  Thomas raised his chin and then reached behind him to grip the doorknob. “Good night, Liis.”

  I maintained the dirtiest look I could until he shut the door, and then I walked over to the broom, scooped it up, and pushed the chair back to the table.

  After a minute or so, the yelping and banging stopped.

  I trudged to my room, stripped off my clothes, and slipped on a T-shirt before falling into the bed.

  Not only did I not hate Thomas, I liked him. Worse than that, he knew it.

  I FLIPPED MY WRIST OVER TO CHECK MY WATCH, cursing myself for sleeping in. After poking a pair of fake diamond studs into the holes in my ears, I slipped on my heels, grabbed my purse, and opened the door.

  Thomas stood there with a Styrofoam cup in each hand. “Coffee?”

  I pulled the door closed and twisted the key in the lock. “Is there milk in that coffee?” I asked.

  “Nope. Six sugars and a two creamers.”

  “How do you know how I take my coffee?” I asked, taking the cup he’d pushed toward me.

  We walked together to the elevator, and Thomas pressed the button.

  “Constance.”

  “Constance knows you bought me coffee?”

  “Constance told me to buy you coffee.”

  The doors opened, and we stepped inside.

  I turned to him, confused. “She’s up early,” I grumbled. “Why would Constance tell you to do this?”

  He shrugged. “She thought you might like it if I did.”

  I turned to face forward. He was answering me without answering me, my very least favorite thing. I was going to have to ask Val to teach me her human-lie-detector trick.

  “No more questions?” Thomas asked.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You won’t give me a real answer anyway.”

  “Constance knows I like you. She says I’ve been different since you’ve been here, and she’s right.”

  “Thomas,” I said, turning to him, “I…appreciate that, but I’m—”

  “Emotionally unavailable. I know. But you’re also just coming out of a relationship. I’m not asking you to move in with me.”

  “What are you asking?”

  “Let me take you to work.”

  “That’s not a question.”

  “Okay. Can we have dinner alone?”

  I turned to him as the elevator opened. “Are you asking me on a date, Maddox?”

  I walked into the lobby, my heels clicking against the floor.

  After a few seconds of hesitation, he nodded once. “Yes.”

  “I don’t have time for anything messy. I’m committed to the job.”

  “As am I.”

  “I like to work late hours.”

  “As do I.”

  “I don’t like to report to anyone.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “Then, yes.”

  “Yes, I can take you to work? Or yes, we can have dinner?”

  “Yes to both.”

  He smiled, triumphant, and then he used his back to push open the lobby doors, keeping me in view. “My vehicle’s this way.”

  During the drive to work, Thomas explained his evening with Taylor, what time Agent Davies had left his condo, and how inconvenient it was to have a drop-in guest even if it was his brother.

  The freeway was still damp from the rain the day before. He weaved his Land Rover in and out of traffic, and although I was used to driving in Chicago, San Diego was totally different, and I wasn’t sure if I would be prepared once I found a vehicle.

  “You look nervous,” Thomas said.

  “I hate the freeway,” I grumbled.

  “You’ll hate it more when you drive it. When does your car get here? You’re going on three weeks without it.”

  “It’s not coming. My parents are selling it for me. I’m going to look for a new one when I have some time, but for now, public transpor
tation works.”

  Thomas made a face. “That’s ridiculous. You can just ride with me.”

  “It’s really fine,” I said.

  “Just meet me out front in the mornings. We leave at the same time anyway, and we’re going to the same place. Plus, you’re doing me a favor. I can drive in the carpool lane.”

  “Okay,” I said, looking out the window. “If you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  I glanced over at him. His transformation from angry, volatile boss to gentle, content neighbor—possibly more—had been gradual, so I hadn’t noticed until we were side by side, the morning sun highlighting the calm in his eyes. We rode the rest of the way to the Bureau in comfortable silence.

  The next time Thomas spoke was to the guard at the security gate.

  “Agent Maddox,” Agent Trevino said, taking our badges. He leaned down to identify me and smirked.

  “Hi, Mig,” Thomas said. “How’s the family?”

  “All fine. Nice of you to drive Agent Lindy to work this morning.”

  Thomas took back his badge. “We live in the same building.”

  “Mmhmm,” Trevino said, sitting back before pressing the button to open the gate.

  Thomas drove through and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Trevino,” Thomas said, resting his elbow on the bottom of the window and touching his lips with his fingers.

  I frowned. Anytime anything came into contact with his lips, a mixture of depression and jealousy swirled inside me. It was an awful feeling, and I wondered when it would stop. “Am I a running joke?”

  Thomas looked over at me and switched his driving hand. Then, my hand was in his, and he squeezed.

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  “What is so amusing?”

  Thomas pulled into the parking garage and put the gear into park. He turned back the key, and the engine silenced. “Me. He’s laughing at me. I don’t bring people to work. I don’t smile when I check in, and I damn sure don’t ask him about his family. He knows it’s…he knows. Things have been different since you came here.”

  “Why is that?” I stared at him, my eyes begging him to say the words.

  Admittedly, I was too proud and stubborn to break my vow to the Bureau without insurance. Coffee, odd jobs around my condo, even his hand in mine weren’t enough. I was okay with being second to his job. When we were both committed to the Bureau, it somehow canceled the other out. But I wouldn’t come in third.