Damaged

by Jeanne St. James

  He needed to call the phone company and cancel the service. Then go out back with all the phones in the house and take a sledgehammer to them.

  Colby’s arms tightened around him, and she buried her face against his neck. He traced his fingers up and down the crease of her spine.

  At first, he’d hoped some stupid kid pranked the house. After Craig had showed up, he’d hoped it had just been that bastard. But he was getting a very bad feeling about this. He was at the point now where he might have the Bureau trace the calls.

  He cupped Colby’s ass cheeks. He wanted to get to the bottom of this soon.

  11

  Colby walked through the aisles of what, at first glance, looked like junk. It wasn’t, though. Antiques and other household items lay in long rows on the grass. Every so often, something—a unique piece of furniture or knickknack—would catch her eye, and she would hesitate, investigate, and inspect.

  If she liked it, it would go on her list along with what she thought it was worth, or at least, what her limit would be while bidding. With limited funds to furnish the house, she had to keep her spending under control. Renovations were her priority. Having a non-leaking roof over her head was more important than an antique settee.

  As it was, auctions had a tendency to get her caught up in the moment, and before she knew it, she had spent way too much on an item. Auctions were fun, but addicting.

  She couldn’t believe Mace wanted to come with her and Martin today. Recently, he’d been sticking close to her. Any time she needed to run an errand, he would either insist on doing it for her or at least want to go along.

  She didn’t know if he was trying to be helpful or just being overly possessive. Either way, he tagged along today. But not long after arriving, Martin and Mace wandered away talking about what pieces of furniture would go nicely with the wainscoting and wood molding in her house.

  Normally, she preferred the auctions held during the week and during the day, because those usually had less competition for an item she wanted. However, this auction was loaded with people, because it was a beautiful Saturday morning.

  The property was only about a mile away from hers, and the auction was held by the estate of the late owner. The house itself was being auctioned off, but it was in very bad shape, even worse than hers had been when she bought it. Whoever bought it today would most likely have to tear it down and start over. But though the house appeared in disarray, the old wood furniture had been well kept. Classic, stunning pieces littered the yard.

  As she strolled down another aisle, she found a particular piece she’d seen listed in the auction catalog: a beautiful Victorian dresser made from a burl of walnut.

  She pulled open a drawer to inspect the dovetailing. The mirror was large, and the wood around the glass was hand carved. The white molded and variegated marble top made a stunning contrast with the rich walnut color of the wood. It was in excellent condition for a piece of furniture which had survived since the 1860s.

  Colby stepped back to stare at it. She really wanted it but knew it would bring a hefty price. She sighed in disappointment. Some collector would snap it up at a price way out of her range.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  She jumped at the deep male voice which came from right over her shoulder and spun to face the stranger. “Yes. I’d love it, but I don’t think I’ll be able to afford it.”

  “How do you know you can’t afford it? This is an auction. Deals can always be found at an auction.”

  The tall but stocky man had dark brown eyes, and his hair was just as dark. His complexion was darker than Mace’s, more olive-toned, and unmistakably ethnic even though he didn’t have an accent. Something about him made her uncomfortable. Maybe because he stood too close and invaded her personal space.

  Colby sidestepped to put a little more room between them. She shrugged. “I’ve seen what similar pieces have gone for. I’m not holding out hope to win this.”

  “But you’ll bid?”

  She thought a moment. “Yes, until it passes my budget.”

  “Which is?”

  She didn’t feel comfortable talking money with a complete stranger, so she skirted the question. “What pieces are you interested in?”

  He gave a slight shrug, then buried his hands into the pockets of his slacks. But not before she noticed the expensive watch on his wrist. Rolex. Could be a knock-off.

  “I’m just here to observe.”

  Observe? That was a bit odd. Most people at auctions came because they either wanted a good deal or a particular item, not just to observe. “Are you related to the estate?”

  “No. I was just driving by when I saw the cars and the auction sign. I figured I’d check it out.”

  Yes, there were a lot of cars parked haphazardly—on the street, on the lawn, blocking the neighbors’ driveways. Just a typical auction day. But this road wasn’t a thoroughfare, a cut-through, or even typically used for commuting. “So, you’re from the area?”

  Those dark eyes, suddenly cold, pinned her for a moment, and Colby fought the urge to shiver. Why would a simple question like that bother him?

  “No. I’m just visiting…friends.” He tilted his head and slowly ran his gaze over her as if she were one of the precious antiques up for bid.

  Unable to fight it this time, a shiver shot up her spine. And it wasn’t from him showing an interest in her. A “something was off” feeling overcame her. Though, she couldn’t put her finger on it. She feigned interest in the dresser’s mirror, running her fingers around the serpentine carving.

  “Exquisite woodwork, yes?” he asked.

  Without answering, Colby looked up into the mirror. The man stood directly over her right shoulder, but over her left, she spotted Martin and Mace. They stood only two aisles away, deep in conversation. In fact, it looked like they were debating over a claw foot tub.

  Would it be really obvious if she turned and started frantically waving them over?

  But, luckily, she didn’t have to. Mace glanced up suddenly, as if he’d felt her gaze and her silent plea. He spotted the man near her, straightened, and began walking quickly toward her, no indication of a limp in his determined stride.

  If she wasn’t concerned before about this stranger, she was now. Mace’s expression looked a bit panicked, and his body language showed a bit of urgency. He was struggling to hide both, but failing miserably.

  For him to be an undercover federal agent and have his emotions shown so clearly…

  Which just proved she needed to move, and she needed to move now. Standing there like a dope wasn’t going to do her any good if this man wanted to hurt her. But…what the hell? Why would this guy want to hurt her?

  She turned to face the man. He'd disappeared. Just like that, poof. She glanced around but couldn't find him, even in the nearby aisles.

  Mace rushed up to her and grabbed her upper arm more firmly than necessary.

  “Ow. What’s going on?”

  His gaze searched the area, and he pulled her tightly against him. Martin made his way toward them, dodging other auction attendees who gathered near the podium anticipating the start of the auction.

  “Who was that?” Mace asked her, finally giving her all of his attention.

  “I have no idea. Just some auction attendee, I guess.” At least that was what she had thought. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  “Did he tell you his name?”

  “No. Should he have?” Mace didn’t answer. He went back to eyeballing the crowd. “Mace, what the hell is going on?”

  He visibly relaxed and lightly brushed his lips over her forehead as if placating her.

  Like something so simple would do it.

  “Nothing. A bit of jealousy.”

  He lied. He might be good at it, but it was obvious to her. He was not the type of man who would ever admit being jealous. Never.

  “Martin and I had an interesting conversation,” he blurted, obviously trying to change the subject.

>   “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her away from the crowd. He moved her toward a stretch of trees and some privacy. Once there, he pinned her back against a tree, out of the view from the rest of the crowd. “He told me something that disturbed me,” Mace said, his face just fractions of an inch away from hers.

  She was still trying to wrap her brain around the sudden change in subject. Distracting her would not work. “Okay, are you going to keep me in suspense? Or are you going to tell me?”

  “He knew all about Craig.”

  Crap. Maybe distracting her would work. “Well, he’s my friend, my co-worker. I confided in him.”

  “But you couldn’t tell me about him. You couldn’t warn me.”

  “I told you why.” Craig wasn’t a topic she liked to talk about since he was an embarrassing part of her past—one she wanted to forget, especially now Mace ran him off.

  “You didn’t feel comfortable enough with me to tell me.” Not a question, but a statement.

  Okay, this bothered him more than she ever would have thought. “Jesus, Mace. Are you really so bent out of shape about it?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just studied her face. Then he lowered his head until their lips met. At first, it was a soft kiss, but it became more urgent. He buried his fingers into her braid, twisting his mouth over hers, dipping his tongue between her lips. His knee pushed between her thighs until it pressed against her mound. In an instant, he was grinding his thigh against her clit, making her moan into his mouth.

  He pulled back a fraction, his breath mingling with hers. “Damn it, Colby, I want you to trust me.”

  She didn’t answer. She wanted to trust him, too.

  He blew out a breath and tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear before giving her a reassuring smile. “Come on. We have to see if we can get some stuff to fill up that big, empty house of yours.” With that, he pushed away from her and headed back toward the crowd.

  He was trying to cover up his fear about something. It was more than her just having a random conversation with a stranger. And not knowing what bothered him worried her.

  12

  Mace reached out to beat on the annoying object. The vibrating cell phone once again danced over the smooth surface of the nightstand. Reluctantly, he picked it up and put it to his ear. “What?”

  Dead silence greeted him until he realized he held the phone upside down. He righted it and repeated his gruff greeting.

  “Keep an eye out, Walker. We’ve been getting reports—reliable ones—Spinozi and his men are looking for you.”

  If that wasn’t a wake-up call, Mace didn’t know what was. He sat up slightly, leaning back against the headboard. “Wait, wait.” He glanced over at the pillow next to him to make sure Colby was still asleep. Cupping his hand around his mouth and the cell, he whispered, “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

  “There’s a price on your head.”

  Well, wonder of all wonders. “A hit? What’s the prize?”

  “You’ll never guess.”

  “So just tell me.”

  “Two and a half.”

  “Thousand?”

  The man on the other end chuckled.

  “Hundred thousand?” Mace still didn’t get a response. He shook his head in disbelief. “No.”

  “Yes. I’m almost tempted to kill you myself.”

  Mace dragged a hand through his disheveled hair. “Two and a half million? Holy shit, Spinozi must be really pissed.”

  “Hmm. I’d say that’s an understatement. I hope you’re healing rapidly because I hate to tell you, you’re on your own, buddy. I would send a couple men out to cover you, but I have no one to spare. And anyway, you’re twice as good as my second best man. I figured you’d be able to handle this little snag on your own.”

  “Little snag?” A little snag was not being shot in cold blood by a Mafia kingpin’s goon.

  “For your sake and hers, get rid of the girl and think about getting yourself to a safe house. The contract is fresh, so if they don’t know about her already, she’ll be okay. But don’t wait. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Mace softly cursed when the phone went dark. He tucked it under his pillow and turned to watch Colby sleep. Her breathing remained deep and steady, so he had no reason to think she heard any of it.

  Damn. How was he going to get her out of his life? These last few weeks had been the best weeks he’d ever had. Colby was great...sexy and smart...Hell, the sex was unbelievable. Biochemist by day, sex kitten by night. She was open to his suggestions, willing to try something new every night. Every morning, too.

  However, he paid the price of their daily romper room. During the day when she was at work, his physical therapist worked out the intense leg cramps he had due to the increased activity. Robin told him he ought to stop torturing himself; he told her to forget it. The cramps were worth it, even if Colby didn’t know what a strain it put on him.

  Shit. What was he going to do? Break it off with her? He couldn’t do it. He had to think. How could he keep her safe but still in his life?

  Fuck. He couldn’t.

  That little run-in with the stranger at the auction was proof enough he couldn’t protect her 24/7. The guy might have been some random stranger, but…

  He didn’t want to think about the “buts.”

  Damn, he would have to separate himself from her, and in a way she wouldn’t figure out the real reason either. He couldn’t tell her he had a contract on his head. The last thing he wanted was for her to panic. If someone just pranking the house stressed her out the way it had…

  Well, maybe it was to be expected. She originally thought it had been Craig doing it. He couldn’t blame her for being scared of the bastard after what he’d seen in those photos.

  But it would be better for her not to be frightened. For herself. For him. She could live her life safe and securely now she finally had Craig Jones out of her life. But with Spinozi putting contracts out on his head, her little safe world might come crashing down. And she deserved better. So much better.

  If Spinozi had any idea how he felt about Colby, the fat bastard wouldn’t hesitate knocking her off. Or worse.

  Okay, think, think, think. How could he suddenly distance himself without getting an interrogation from her?

  What would be plausible after everything that happened between the two of them? They had gotten into a routine: her working during the week while he went to PT, dinner together at night, down and dirty dessert later in the evening, weekends at her house fixing it up.

  Mace groaned. He would have to be a cold-hearted bastard. He would have to get into character and become something, someone she hated.

  He would have to become Craig.

  Fuck! Why did he have to do this? If there were any other way…

  Colby’s arm reached over him as she stretched. The sheet slipped away, exposing a bare breast. He closed his eyes against the temptation. Maybe he could wait to…No, he needed to do it now. She didn’t deserve to be tangled in his mess.

  Rolling onto her side, she gave him a wide smile. “Good morning.”

  He did not want to do this. He really didn’t. He took a deep breath, looking down into her glowing face. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he reluctantly slipped into character.

  “Is it?” He kept his voice clipped and cold.

  Confusion crossed her face, her eyebrows knitting together. “Is something wrong?”

  “What could be wrong? Everything’s just perfect. Everything is going the way you’d like.” He got out of bed, turning to point a finger at her. “Why don’t you just move your things in here? Why do you even need your own room? Hell, why are you even bothering to fix up that deathtrap of a house?”

  She tugged the sheet up over her chest, her face pale. “Mace, what’s wrong? Does your leg hurt? Did I do something?”

  “I’ve got to shower. Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

&n
bsp; She glanced wide-eyed at the clock. “No.”

  “Then why aren’t you downstairs making me breakfast?”

  Mace stormed out of the bedroom, leaving Colby alone in his bed, her jaw hanging.

  He slammed the bathroom door behind him and paced. He needed time to get a plan together, to make this believable. If he fucked this up, it could be her death sentence. Or his.

  After he’d got out of the shower and dressed, he stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen. Colby’s face still appeared ashen; her hair hung uncommonly loose around her shoulders. She had missed a button on her blouse, and it hung crookedly. He wanted so badly to straighten out her shirt and re-button it for her, but he just clenched his fingers into fists instead.

  Seconds after he sat at the table, she placed a plate of food in front of him. He stared at the veggie omelet and the dry whole grain bagel before violently pushing the plate away from him. It skidded down the table with a clatter, the bagel shooting onto the floor. Colby spun around from pouring him coffee, crying out when she sloshed the burning liquid over her hand.

  He slammed his palm on the table, making her jump. “Do you call this breakfast? Can’t I ever have normal white toast? And bacon? Why are you such a damn klutz? You spilled coffee all over the floor. Now fucking clean it up before it stains the floor. I’m going out for breakfast. I won’t be home for dinner either.”

  “Mace…” she whispered, her voice shaky and breathless.

  He left Colby cooling her burned fingers off under the faucet. He hadn’t missed the tears filling her eyes, but he couldn’t let it affect him. He just couldn’t. It was for her own good. Even if she didn’t know it. It had to be this way.

  It had to be.

  Fuck.

  The house was so quiet. Mace really hadn’t come home for dinner last night. Or tonight either. He hadn’t come home at all.

  Colby needed to talk to him. She wanted to know what bothered him. Why he acted that way yesterday morning. Had she done something wrong?