“Of course I did.” Patrick stepped back, trying to separate himself from her.
“Thank you,” she said genuinely. She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it into hers, making him move closer.
“El,” Patrick sighed, avoiding her eyes. He didn’t know what she wanted from him, but was pretty sure he couldn’t give it to her.
“Please forgive me,” she begged. “I want us to be right. I need us to be right.”
Oh fuck, she needed this from him. She needed something else from him, and he wasn’t sure this was something he could give her. “I want to,” he admitted, and he did. He wanted to forgive them both. “I’m just as guilty as you are, El. I love you and I’m trying to get through it. I have to get through it because there’s nothing there for me. You picked him.”
“Please forgive me,” she continued to beg. “I love you too; we just need to know what that means. Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done. Just love me back. Be my person. I would do anything for you. Tell me what you need me to do.”
She loved him too? What was he supposed to do with that bullshit? She’s on narcotics. Should he even believe what she’s saying? She’s high as a fucking kite.
“I need you to let me go,” he said, and his voice cracked with so much emotion he had to clear his throat. Patrick knew that was what he needed, but he didn’t know if that was something she could give him. Patrick felt like he was moving in the right direction in Atlanta; maybe this discussion would help him further.
“Whatever that means, I’ll do it. Please tell me how to let you go…that’s what I thought I’ve been doing.” Tears fell down her cheeks and he wanted to kiss them away.
Patrick finally met her gaze, intensity filling his blue eyes. “I need to know you love me.”
“Done. I love you,” she said, her words slurring.
He chuckled. “I wanted to believe that you and I could figure out a way for us to be together, but now I know that’s impossible. Can we love each other and not be with each other?”
“I don’t know. You want to try?”
He looked down and shook his head. “You’re the most amazing, fucked up person. You’re the one I need to stop comparing everyone else to.”
“I’m sure I lose in every comparison.” She fake laughed and he hated it.
“Nope, you and your fucked up shit always rank higher. I must need therapy.”
“Patrick, you’re my person. Nothing else matters.”
“Everything else matters, El. You’re married. You have a son. This is where you belong.” His voice broke a little and El looked in his eyes again. He was letting her go. Could he let her go? He needed to, but he didn’t know if he could actually do it.
“It doesn’t matter. You tell me what you need and I’ll do it,” she implored.
“El, let’s take baby steps,” he encouraged. “I’m glad you’re okay. I love you, but I’ll deny it if you bring it up. Let me try to figure out how we can be okay.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
Patrick kissed her forehead and wished things were different, that she’d stayed with him instead of going to George, but that didn’t happen.
“I think I’m going to take a shit on the neighbor’s toilet,” she murmured.
Patrick laughed. “What? How much of the good stuff did they give you?!”
“Some of my favorite times are just me and you.” El raised her hand from the bed and pressed her hand against his chest. “You and me.”
He was silent. He couldn’t allow her to make him feel this way anymore, there was no more him and her. There never was.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered before she fell asleep.
He sat down next to her and watched her chest rise and fall with even breaths, a stray wave falling across her face.
She was never mine.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
FULL CIRCLE
Marly came into his office and sat in the chair, crossing her bare legs. They’d been friendly at the office, nothing overt, but the sexual tension was making his dick so hard it was like it was made of iron. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to be around her and the harder it was to hide that at work.
“Hey, Patrick,” she greeted. “Jim wanted me to let you know that DC wants an update of the operation down here and because they know you, they requested you come.”
They hadn’t defined their relationship yet, but he wasn’t seeing anyone else and he was pretty sure she didn’t have time to.
“When do I leave?”
“Um, let me see…” She uncrossed her legs and he could see up her skirt a bit as she put her iPad on her lap and started tapping the screen. “It looks like Thursday.”
“Okay. I’m in the office all week anyway, so it’ll work.” He got up and came around the desk. Patrick sat on the edge of his desk, his leg brushing hers. “I like it when I can see up your skirt. Can you open your legs a little wider for me?”
Marly looked toward the door and inched her knees apart. “In your absence, let me know if there is anything I can do.” She winked at him and got up, leaving his office.
He was so fucking lucky. She was a dirty little thing and no one knew it but him.
Walking in his old office building, his brain began flashing images of Jamie. He shut it down; he had to make it through this week without having a total meltdown. He rode the elevator up and got off on his old floor, smiling sincerely when he saw some of his colleagues.
“Hey, Patrick.” David, one of the agents he’d worked with for years came over and shook his hand. “How’s Atlanta treating you?”
“Pretty good, man.” Patrick walked along the corridor with him until he turned off to meet with Kevin.
“Well, the recruits are a little softer without you around.” David slapped Patrick’s back.
“You’re missed.”
Patrick stopped in the doorway and looked at David. He was a little older than Patrick, but they’d come up in the agency together. David was one of Patrick’s favorite people in the building, he was real and honest to a fault. “Thanks, man. How about dinner or drinks this week? I’m here for the entire week.”
“Yeah, man. Just let me know what works for you. I’ll need to let Stacy know I’ll be late.” David pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calendar. “How about tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Patrick agreed. “It’s good to see you.”
David shook Patrick’s hand again and smiled. “It looks like Atlanta may be good for you.”
Patrick paused, thinking about what David said. He agreed that Atlanta was the best decision he’d made in a long time, a decision that helped him take steps away from who and what he was before. A necessary evil, he’d decided in the beginning, but now Atlanta was really starting to feel like home, or maybe it was Marly. He cleared his throat and stepped into Kevin’s office, shutting the door behind him.
Kevin looked up from some documents he was reading and smiled at Patrick. “I hear Atlanta’s going well,” he said as he got up and extended his hand toward Patrick.
They shook hands and Patrick sat in one of the chairs closest to Kevin’s desk, still unsure why he was here.
“So as you’re aware, one of our agents was shot at your house several months ago.”
Patrick nodded, his stomach getting queasy.
“Well, undoubtedly, Jamie had a little present for us if he were to die.”
All the blood drained from Patrick’s face. “What do you mean?”
“It means that your friend Jamie had someone send an entire fucking box of evidence to the FBI in the event of his death.” Kevin was looking at him as if Patrick had some sort of clue what he was talking about.
“Evidence?” Patrick was pretty sure he couldn’t come up with complete sentences.
“Yes. Audio, photos and piles of handwritten notes.”
Patrick stared at Kevin’s hands, which were clasped in front of him on the desk.
“Burns will be brought up on charges,” Kevin continued. “Based on the evidence we received, he totally fucked this kid over, time and time again. Also, the kid got evidence that Burns was the one that was selling confiscated weapons, not just in Montana, but all over the West Coast as well. This is a fucking shitstorm.”
“Why?”
“Because then the questions will come up—who is this Jamie kid? Oh, he doesn’t exist? Oh, that makes sense. Oh, he’s dead, that makes even more sense. Oh, he died twice?”
“What do I have to do with this?” Patrick asked, his guard sufficiently in place.
“FBI may contact you about what you know. I need to go over everything with you before that happens,” Kevin pulled out a pad and wrote Patrick’s name on the top. “So, after that last call from Jamie six months after he went under, did you hear from him again?”
Patrick had been waiting on this since he pulled the trigger.
Billy and Patrick sat at the bar while Owen poured them Black and Tans. It’d been about a year since he’d been in Finnegan’s and he thought Billy taking him here was to make some sort of point. He was glad George wasn’t around. Owen set down the pints in front of them and looked at them curiously. “You mates of Stella’s right?”
“Something like that,” Billy answered for them. His hair was a little longer than usual and he was wearing his Clark Kent glasses.
Patrick took a gulp of his beer, swallowing a snide comment that threatened to come out. “What’s up with the hipster glasses?” he asked instead, even though he’d already seen them. He’d meant to ask him about them in December, but he’d been so wrapped up in getting over El he didn’t do anything he meant to do.
“Cover more of my face,” he said, shrugging.
“You just get back in town?”
He nodded. “Turkey,” he commented lowly.
“Solo?”
“Nope, they have me working with a partner to train her.”
“Her?”
“Yep.” He took another pull of his beer.
Patrick turned in the barstool and examined Billy.
“What?” Billy asked, not looking at Patrick.
“You’re acting weird.”
“You see El yet?”
“Fuck you.”
“How’s the slapper in Atlanta doing?”
Patrick set his glass back on the bar and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Billy was goading him for some reason. “Stop fucking around…what’s going on with you?”
“Work’s hell and Kayce is basically the same.” Billy’s shoulders slumped and he took his glasses off and put them down next to his beer. “I have no peace. There’s no peace.”
“Oh, like you had any peace for the last couple of years,” Patrick chided and drank his beer. “By the way, if you bothered to ask me how my day went, I would tell you about the fucked up shit that happened.”
Billy raised his eyebrows. “How was your day, dear?”
Patrick leaned in and lowered his voice. “Jamie had a package delivered to the FBI after he died. It was a ton of evidence against Burns. They called me up here to do some bullshit work, but really go over anything I knew.”
“You didn’t know anything,” Billy stated.
“They made sure of that, I guess.”
“You make any mistakes?”
“Who’re you talking to?” Patrick laughed and took another gulp of beer.
“Well, that is very interesting, Patrick. Now, let’s get back to me.”
“Of course,” he joked and then realized there was something about Billy that wasn’t snapping into place. “Seriously, it’s not like the past few years were cake.”
“Yeah, but we shot the shit and I could drink and could forget about the hell of not being who I am on a daily basis.” Billy drained his beer. “Now when I get home I have to keep pretending.”
Patrick tried not to spit out his drink. “Did she move in?”
“Fuck, she may as well have. She’s got her shit everywhere and is always coming over.”
There wasn’t anything Patrick could say to this; this was Billy’s reality. “You can always come to Atlanta for a little break.” It was all he could offer.
“Thanks, man.” Billy raised his hand, motioning another round for them both.
“Dude, I’m sorry there isn’t anyone here you can be yourself around.”
“Shit, man. Maybe that is who I am and I’ve just forgotten,” Billy lamented. “Maybe I have no fucking clue who I am anymore.”
“You know, it’s okay to lose yourself for a bit. It happens to everyone.” He nodded at Owen as the next round beers were set on the bar in front of them. “I guess sometimes we just get caught up in what we’re doing and forget who we are. I’m here, though. I can remind you who you are. You’re a smartass who is loyal and can keep a secret. You’re obsessed with playing video games so you can forget that what you do for a living can sometimes get people killed. You’re mostly a no-serious-relationships person because you can’t imagine having to explain what you do to someone else. You don’t trust anyone and that’s lonely. I’m sorry my leaving has impacted you.”
A grin spread across Billy’s face. “You want to move back in? You miss me that much?”
“No, asshole.”
“So the girl in Atlanta, she’s helping you out?”
“Yeah, she kind of is,” Patrick answered.
“Good. You were kind of a mess. I’m glad I was around to help fix you.”
“You can’t fix shit.”
“I fix shit all the time,” Billy countered. “That’s what I do.”
Patrick woke up the next morning worse for wear. He and Billy drank too much and talked shit to each other for hours. He did remember he’d called Richard, his tattoo artist in DC, and made a special appointment to get a new tattoo in a few hours. Patrick had been thinking about getting it for a while, but didn’t trust anyone in Atlanta yet. This would be his seventh tattoo. His body was covered with tattoos that meant something to him; he got his first one in Savannah as soon as he could talk the artist at California Tattoo into doing it, he was only 15. It was his brother’s name on his right bicep. Although he couldn’t bear to stay in Savannah with Trevor and see his reality every day, Patrick carried his brother with him always. He had nails tattooed on his chest. This was his attempt to show that he felt ripped in two at what happened to his brother and then his father leaving; the nails were the only thing that kept him together. Patrick needed those nails to survive.
He had a tiger on his back that pretty much covered his left shoulder blade. He got it after he spent six weeks in training for the ATF; it changed him and he felt that the tiger symbolized his newfound power and the invincibility he needed to make it through life. To the right of the tiger were the words, “No Mercy, No Fear,” which was how he approached every situation. On his forearm he had the words, “Lesson Learned,” this one he got after he fucked up his first case with the ATF. He’d been arrogant and didn’t follow protocol, so the perp got off on a technicality because of Patrick’s fuck up.
Patrick subconsciously rubbed the thick black tribal tattoo that wrapped around his left bicep and shoulder. He and Jamie had gotten tribal tattoos the summer Jamie had lived with him and Billy. It was something they did together and the memory of it seared through Patrick’s brain. He shook it away. He was getting good at not letting memories of Jamie invade his brain.
Walking over to make a pot of coffee, he saw his phone on the counter. He had three texts from Marly. The first one was a jaw-dropping picture of her, naked. When he didn’t respond, she’d texted.
Well I’m assuming you’re speechless, but you know what they say about assuming
Patrick couldn’t believe he’d missed this text. Her next text told him that she was mortified she’d sent that to him, she was out drinking with the girls and obviously wanted to talk to him. He messaged her back furiously.
I’m an ass for missing the best text I’ve ever
received. Billy and I were drunk and I lost my fucking phone.
Damn
Are you still naked?
He hoped that didn’t foreclose the opportunity for more naked photos from her. Patrick was still texting when Billy came out of his room.
“Why are you making so much noise?” His hair was disheveled and he lacked his glasses. He was wearing a Steelers t-shirt and pj pants. “And why aren’t you wearing a fucking shirt?”
Patrick laughed. “I forgot to pack one.”
“So, are we getting tattoos?”
“Oh, yeah ‘we’re’ getting tattoos,” Patrick said sarcastically.
“Well, I need one more to finish my sleeve,” Billy kept up with the joke. He ran his hand over his right bicep, which lacked tattoos of any sort. His job wouldn’t allow him ink.
“What do you think would happen if you popped into the Langley with a huge sleeve done?” Patrick asked.
Billy laughed. “Well, best case scenario, I’d be on the desk, you know?”
Patrick and Billy held each other’s secrets; they both had top secret clearance, but with different government agencies. Patrick worked for the ATF and Billy told everyone he worked for the Department of Justice, but he didn’t. Only his family and Patrick knew where he really worked and he planned on keeping it that way. The amount of secrets they held between them could fill a room, but they trusted each other implicitly; it had taken years to build that trust.
“What are you getting?”
“I told you last night,” Patrick answered while he was pouring himself a mug of coffee.
“I don’t remember I was drunk.”
“You can’t hold your liquor.”
“We didn’t drink liquor,” Billy quipped as he filled his own mug of coffee.
“Whatever asshole, you need to get out more.” Patrick sat at the table and looked through his phone.
“Can we go to Old Glory when we get your tattoo?” Billy asked.
“Why would I want DC’s version of barbeque when I can get the real thing at home? I was thinking brunch at Clyde’s. What’s Kayce up to?”
Heart in Wire Page 24
