Werewolves in London (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 3)

by M. L. Hamilton

  Marco gave Abe a smile. “Sometimes you’re a very wise man, you know that?”

  Abe reached for his coffee, shaking his head. “No, Angel, all the time I’m a very wise man, the wisest man you know.”

  Marco laughed and saluted him with his own mug. “Touché, my friend, touché.”

  * * *

  Peyton stepped into her office and stumbled to a halt. Her desk and credenza were covered in flowers. A bouquet of flowers even occupied an open spot on the floor in a corner. She took it all in, easing around the desk and pulling out her chair, setting her briefcase on it.

  Margaret appeared in the doorway, her cardigan buttoned to her chin, her pearls hanging around her neck. “They started arriving half-an-hour ago.”

  Peyton began searching through them for a card.

  “I assumed they were from your young man.”

  Peyton glanced up at her. “No, my young man would never think of doing something like this. Flowers are far too impractical for him.” She found the card and opened the envelope. She suspected she knew who they were from and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  Sure enough, the card read: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Barnabas.

  She held up the card. “Just as I suspected. These are from Mike Edwards.”

  “Mike Edwards? The guy who showed up here the other day?”

  “Yep.” Picking up the briefcase, she sank into her seat.

  “Why is he sending you flowers?”

  “That’s the million dollar question, Margaret. He showed up at my place last night, waiting on the doorstep. Let’s just say it caused trouble.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yep.”

  Her cell phone rang. Peyton pulled it out of her suit pocket and looked at the display. Mike’s number flashed on the screen. “And here he is to make it worse.”

  Margaret winced and backed out of the room. “I’ll just get you some coffee.”

  Peyton thumbed the phone on and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Peyton, I just wanted to call and tell you how sorry I am for yesterday.”

  “I sort of got that idea when I entered my office and found it looking like a florist shop.”

  “Do you like them? I was hoping they’d brighten your day.”

  “How much did you spend, Mike?”

  “I have a friend in the business. He hooked me up. Besides, what are credit cards for?”

  “You shouldn’t have done this, Mike. Just like you shouldn’t have been waiting outside my house yesterday.”

  “That’s why I got the flowers, Peyton. I really am sorry about yesterday. Honestly, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just worried about you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Mike. That’s not your job.”

  He went silent. Peyton closed her eyes, fighting for composure. She didn’t want to hurt him.

  “Look, Mike. This has to stop. You can’t keep doing these things. I told you. I’m not interested in a relationship.”

  “I know. You’ve told me that a couple of times, but I just thought we could be friends.”

  “Well, I don’t think we can.”

  “I see.”

  Peyton felt a wash of guilt sweep over her. “I didn’t mean that to sound as harsh as it did.”

  “No, I get it. You’re trying to work things out with your ex and…”

  “He’s not really my ex.”

  “And I’m interfering with that. It’s obvious I make him uncomfortable. I get that...actually, I don’t ‘cause he looks like a Chippendales dancer, but you know, whatever. I get it. It’s just that everything’s sort of messed up right now in my life and…”

  Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask, she pleaded with herself. Just leave it alone. This was always where she got herself in trouble.

  “Never mind. It’s not your problem.”

  Peyton reached out and fingered a deep velvet-red rose petal. “What’s messed up?” she heard herself say.

  “It’s just I’m new here and I don’t know anyone. I thought I’d meet people at work, but…”

  “But?”

  “I lost my job on Friday, Peyton. They laid me off. First one in, first one out. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ll probably have to move back in with my mother.”

  “Then why are you buying me flowers?”

  “I told you, I got a deal on them. Besides, I really wanted to make it up to you. I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you.”

  Peyton covered her eyes with her hand. Stay tough. He ruined your night with Marco. He took that away from you. Do not give in. Do not let him back into your life. “I’m sorry you lost your job, Mike.”

  “It is what it is. It’s just hard, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you fight for your country. You risk your life, but then...you’re on your own.”

  “Can’t you get unemployment?”

  “I was still in my probationary period. I don’t think I qualify. I don’t know. Look, Peyton, just forget it, okay? It’s not your problem. I’ll figure it out some way. It’s just it would be nice to have a friend sometimes.”

  “Mike.”

  “No, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it, okay? Just forget I said anything.”

  Peyton banged her fist against her forehead a few times. God damn it, she was going to lose Marco for good if she didn’t stop collecting strays. He’d been as patient with her as he could. She had to stop feeling sorry for people, taking them in. She had to put up a barricade against them.

  And yet, she couldn’t. She’d never been able to do it before. Marco knew who she was when he asked her to marry him. He knew she couldn’t let people flounder on their own. He was just going to have to accept who she was or not. Period.

  “Look, Mike, why don’t you come down for lunch?” she heard herself say. “I might have some ideas for your job search.”

  “Really? Are you sure, Peyton?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What ideas? Do you know of any jobs? Anything I might be qualified for?”

  Peyton grimaced. She knew they were hiring front desk security at the moment. Still, she would be in a world of trouble if Marco came here and saw him. No, that wouldn’t work at all. However, Marco had never come down to her office before, not once in all the time she’d worked here.

  “Look, I’m not promising anything. Just meet me downstairs in the lobby at noon, okay? We’ll see what we can find then.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much, Peyton.”

  “Well, don’t thank me right now. We haven’t found you anything yet.” She paused, listening on the line. “I’m not promising anything, Mike. Please understand this. I’m just trying to help.”

  “You don’t know what this means to me, Peyton. Just having you in my corner. It means the world to me.”

  “We’ll see. See you at noon.”

  “See you at noon, and Peyton, thank you.”

  “Yeah.” She disconnected the call and sat staring at the display – the picture she’d taken of Marco and Pickles in the Delta a month or so ago stared back at her. Marco was going to blow an aneurysm if she told him about this, but honestly, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right? Besides, she was pissed at him, wasn’t she? For leaving again. For walking out on her. For not listening to what she had to say. She was pissed and she wasn’t going to let him control her life.

  Margaret appeared in the doorway, carrying her coffee, four packets of sugar, and a small box. “Look what else arrived for you.”

  Peyton peeked into the cellophane window at a chocolate cupcake with milk chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles. A flush of pleasure swept over her as she saw the gift sticker in the corner.

  Enjoy, sweetheart! Marco.

  She might be mad at him, but it wasn’t going to stop her from eating this. “Now this, Margaret, this is from my guy!” she said happily.

  * * * />
  “How was the weekend?”

  Marco drew his eyes away from the window and studied Dr. Ferguson where he sat behind his desk. “Fine.”

  “Fine? No drinking?”

  “No.”

  “What did you do?” He folded his hands on his yellow legal pad and gave Marco a tilt of his head.

  “I took Peyton to dinner.”

  “And how did that go?”

  Marco sighed, studying the wrinkles in the doctor’s navy blue jacket. He wondered if the man balled up his clothes and tossed them in the back of his closet when he undressed because they were always hopelessly rumpled.

  “You married, Dr. Ferguson?” Marco had never thought to ask before.

  “Why do you ask?”

  Marco shrugged. “Just wondering.”

  “I was. We decided it was in our best interest to separate.”

  “Divorce?”

  “No, just separate.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was for the best. We’re very good friends now.” He lifted his clasped hands to his lips and tapped them against his chin. “Are you deflecting for a reason?”

  Stretching out his leg, Marco rubbed at the knotted scar. “Maybe.”

  “Did dinner go badly?”

  “No, it went well. In fact, we went back to her place and she invited me in.”

  “For intercourse?”

  Marco sighed. “You always make it sound so clinical, and like such a bad idea.”

  “Because it is.”

  “Clinical or a bad idea?”

  “You’re deflecting again.”

  “Fine. This guy she met at a bar was waiting on her doorstep for her.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not from where I was standing.”

  “I see.” Tap, tap went the fingers. “Let me see if I can guess what happened. You flew into a jealous rage, went after the guy, and Peyton told you to get out.”

  “Hold on. Jealous rage?”

  “That is your typical modus operandi, isn’t it?”

  “Most people just say M.O.”

  “I’m aware of that, but acronyms are tedious, aren’t they?”

  Marco ran his fingers over the silver handle on his cane, fighting his frustration. He really wanted these sessions to be over. It felt like he was in purgatory and he ought to know something about that, growing up Catholic. “I got upset.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “And I yelled, but I didn’t go after the guy and she didn’t throw me out…”

  “You ran away.”

  Marco’s gaze snapped to Ferguson’s face. He didn’t want to admit he’d done that again, but Ferguson had him pretty much pinned. “Yeah, I ran away.” He scratched his forehead. “Why do I keep doing that?”

  “Because you are more concerned with the physical intimacy of your relationship rather than the emotional. Until you stop relying on the physical, you’ll never handle the emotional.”

  Marco rubbed his temple. “What?”

  “You’ve got to stop falling into bed with her every chance you get. You and Peyton use your physical relationship to avoid dealing with the problems in your emotional relationship. You will never get back to where you were until you discuss your problems, deal with them like adults, and stop using sex as the answer to everything.”

  “That just doesn’t seem right.”

  “When she rejects your physical overtures, you run away. You’ve never had a relationship with a woman until now. Every encounter with a woman has been sexual…”

  “That’s not true. Peyton and I were partners for eight years.”

  “And then you made it sexual. Because you don’t know how to deal with a woman any other way, because you can’t share the intimacy of your emotions, you bolt. Every time it gets too real, you bolt. Honestly, Captain D’Angelo, you are the problem.”

  “Wow. Are you supposed to say that?”

  “I’m getting frustrated with you.”

  Marco blinked. “Well, okay then. Um.”

  “How many times have I told you to stop using sex as the answer to your problems?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do, but you don’t listen. I can’t help you if you won’t listen to me. You and Peyton need to discuss the very real issues all couples have, or...and I can’t stress this enough, you’re going to lose her. A woman like Peyton is not going to wait forever for you to...pardon the colloquial expression, get your shit together.”

  Marco realized his mouth hung open. He closed it and looked out the window. Ferguson must really be frustrated. He’d never been that direct before. With a bewildered chuckle, Marco reached for his cane.

  “This is money well spent, Dr. Ferguson, I’ll tell you that. I mean there’s no way in hell I’d have ever come up with get my shit together on my own. I bow down to your superior training and education.”

  “You can be angry with me all you want, Captain D’Angelo, but somewhere inside, you know I’m right. If you want to stay sober, you’ve got to face this fear of true intimacy you have. It’s crippling you.”

  Marco considered that as he rose to his feet. What was crippling him was his damn leg and the constant pain he was in. Not to mention that he’d fallen in love with the most frustrating woman he’d ever met. Then there was the overabundance of interference in his life from people who couldn’t even take care of their own shit. What the hell did a man who was separated from his wife know about other people’s relationships?

  “I’ll take your words under advisement.”

  “No you won’t. You’ll keep going the same way you are until you lose her.”

  Marco gave him a glare, then turned his back on him.

  “I’ll see you Wednesday,” Ferguson called after him when he reached the door.

  Marco wanted to flip him off, but he figured that would probably up their sessions to four times a week, instead of three.

  * * *

  Peyton picked the tuna sandwich off the metal rack and settled it on her tray next to her soda can. Beside her, Mike took an apple and nothing else.

  “Get a sandwich,” she instructed. “I’m buying.”

  “No, I’m good. Not that hungry.”

  “So you can’t let a woman buy you a meal, is that it?”

  He gave her a smile and reached for a roast beef sandwich, setting it on his tray. Peyton grabbed two bags of chips and tossed one to him.

  He snagged a can of soda for himself. “If you’re buying, I’d rather have the kettle chips.”

  Peyton gave him an arch look and switched out the bags, then they carried their trays to the cashier. Peyton paid and motioned to an open seat in front of the windows. They sat down opposite each other and Peyton pulled open the bag of chips, emptying them onto her sandwich plate.

  “So, what happened to your job?”

  Mike shrugged, lifting half of his sandwich to his mouth and taking a bite. He chewed, then swallowed. “Got laid off. They said they were downsizing, but I seemed to be the only one downsized.”

  “No other reason?”

  “Not that they gave me.” He popped the top on the soda can and took a sip. “So, again, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “Please stop bringing it up. I don’t want to talk about it.” She popped her own can. “Where are you looking for work?”

  “All the usual online sites.” He took another bite of sandwich. They ate in silence for a few minutes. “So, this guy, your ex-fiancé...he’s got a temper, huh?”

  Peyton set down her drink. “Look, Mike, I’m not kidding. I don’t want to talk about it. Marco isn’t up for discussion.”

  “Fine. I’m not trying to pry. I’m just concerned.”

  “Well, don’t be. You have no idea how many times I’ve trusted my life to that man, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “Got it.” He started to lift the other half of his sandwich, but stopped. “He get shot in the line of duty?”

  “How
did you know he was shot?”

  “Come on, Peyton. I was a soldier. That sort of damage comes from a gun.”

  She placed a chip in her mouth and nodded. This was another topic she wasn’t discussing. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out the job listing and slid it across the table at him. “There’s an entry level security position in our building. It doesn’t pay great, but you get benefits.”

  He pulled the paper over to himself and studied it, while he finished off the rest of the sandwich. “Damn, it sounds good. I could really use a break right now.” Looking up at Peyton, he gave her a sad smile. “Can I use you as a reference?”

  “For what?”

  “My character.”

  “Your character? I hardly know you.”

  “I was concerned about your welfare, so that shows my security background. I let you buy me lunch. That shows I’m open-minded and progressive. I can get hit by a car and bounce back, so I can take physical punishment. And I’m brilliant.”

  Peyton shook her head, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re also humble to a fault,” she said. “Fine. You can use me as a reference. Not that it’ll do you any good. I’ve only been here a little over a month.”

  “And solved how many cases?”

  Two, but she wasn’t telling him that. Glancing over Mike’s shoulder, Peyton caught sight of Tank. He held up a hand to her and came over to their table, giving Mike an assessing look.

  “Hey, Peyton.”

  “Hey, Tank, this is Mike Edwards. Mike, this is Thomas Campbell, one of my colleagues.”

  Mike rose to his feet and shook hands with the larger man. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same here,” said Tank, releasing him.

  Mike took a seat again.

  “Hey, Peyton, the professor wants to talk to us about that cold case we caught.”

  “Oh, really? When?” Before they’d been called off to their last case, Peyton had been researching the death of Lance Corporal Isaac Daws, who’d been found dead of a drug overdose in a sleazy motel.

  “She can see us tomorrow morning, if that works for you.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “I’ll meet you in your office at 8:00AM.”