by Dana Volney
“Flimsy reasoning if I’ve ever heard any, Nox.”
Shit. She’d forgotten about the earbud already. Having Felix’s low growl in her ear was going to take some getting used to. And, dammit, he was going to hear everything at the bank anyway. But he wouldn’t see anything, and that was the important fact.
Crossing the street, she entered the clothing store and headed straight for the back that accessed a newly built city park area complete with benches and a couple of trees. She cut right and went in through the doors that read Seattle Bank and Trust. She gently maneuvered the earbud out and into her cargo leg pocket—muffled sounds would be fine for him to hear.
“How can I help you today?” a baby-faced young man in a suit asked her at the reception desk.
“I need to get into my safety deposit box.”
He nodded and made a call then pointed her back to an office beside a bank of desks.
This was the second time in almost as many days she’d walked through those doors. The day before she’d showed up in Felix’s bed, she’d sat outside his apartment in a rental car, staring at his closed curtains while rain pitter-pattered on the metal roof. There was a lot she’d had to say, but she’d had no idea how to say it. He certainly hadn’t made any effort to seek her out. So she’d just sat there, full of angst, and debated, with her wedding ring in one hand and the encrypted laptop in the passenger seat. Truth or manipulation?
After she’d watched his shadow for hours, she’d decided not to leave her life to chance. She headed straight to this bank, slid her wedding ring off her finger and into a safety deposit box, along with the laptop, and then checked in at the hotel. She stored her heart and her life in the best place, like a good operative – right under Felix’s nose. Where else was safer?
Felix was dead set on officially ending their marriage, she’d agreed, and now her head was starting to recognize that letting go might not be such a bad idea. The sky was the limit after tonight. She could go anywhere she wanted, do anything she wanted, and be anything she wanted. Just not Felix’s wife.
• • •
Felix glanced at the map on his phone again. Thank God Eddie had installed the GPS tracking software on his phone before they’d left the office. Arabella’s comm had gone silent, and not because no one was talking. Oh, she was not getting off the hook this time. His feet swung out of the truck door. And what kind of fool did she take him for? He stomped across the street as adrenaline flowed freely. Sonuvabitch. Nobody in intelligence was this stupid, not even rookies on their first day. How badly had Arabella lost her touch? He threw open the big glass doors. If Darek really had been tailing them, a bank’s security wasn’t going to stop him—especially if he realized his precious ledger was being stored there. Arabella’s swaying ponytail caught Felix’s attention as she came out of an office and followed a guy in a suit.
Jogging, he caught up to them before the elevator doors closed.
Arabella’s eyes widened before she regained her composure. “Felix.” The fortitude was clear in her voice.
He quickly glanced at the bank employee as he boarded the elevator. “Nox.” He faced the doors, next to her, and clasped his hands in front. She was fine; his heart could settle down. This was her handy hiding place, and she’d taken her comm out so he couldn’t hear where she was going. He still didn’t know what the big fucking deal was; he knew what she was retrieving.
“He’ll be joining us,” she said to the bank employee, who pressed the button, clearly unsure what just happened.
The short man led them down a hallway and through a thick safe door into a room filled with different sizes of safety deposit boxes. He inserted his key into box number 831, and she did the same.
“I’ll be right outside when you’re through, Mrs. Ibarra. Take your time.”
Felix’s head snapped over to the man then to Arabella—who wasn’t looking at him. Mrs. Ibarra, huh? He’d never heard anyone but him and the guy who married them call her that. Fuck. His dick sure liked hearing her called by his last name. A smug smirk crossed his lips.
“Shut up,” she said with her back to him. “I couldn’t use any of my last names, now could I?”
Technically Ibarra should be her last name—add that to the list of things he’d fucked up in their relationship. Suggesting no one find out about the marriage had been a boneheaded move. If team members and their bosses had known, he and Arabella could’ve been together in public more, placed on assignments together more often, and not lived as a couple in the shadows.
The short-lived happiness of the moment expired, and he felt like shit. Exasperation at why she was being so coy about the bank tugged at his neck and continued up until it flowed out of his lips. “Why do you have to make everything hard?”
“I could ask the same of you.” She pulled out her box and set it on the metal table in the middle of the room.
He stood opposite her, widened his stance, and crossed his arms. Let’s fucking get this over with.
She used her key to open the top lock and folded the metal top over then carefully unfolded a pouch that contained a laptop. “All here,” she said and set it on the table as she started to close the lid to the box. A shiny glint caught his eye.
“Wait.” He stretched out a hand.
“There’s nothing else in here.” She closed it, but he reached down and spun the twelve-by-fourteen box around to face him. Her hands flew across the table to take it back, but he moved it closer to him and out of her reach. He opened the lid, and his lips parted as he momentarily stopped breathing.
Her wedding band.
His entire internal self cringed.
Her fucking wedding band was in a safety deposit box in Seattle. And why she’d wanted to keep him away. One tiny ring in a box spoke volumes—it mostly said, “it’s over.”
The size seven silver band was shiny, and the diamonds reflected glimpses of light. Time stood still as he stayed there, frozen, feeling like he’d sucker-punched himself this time. He’d just had to look in her private hiding place. Jackass.
He snapped his mouth closed and stole a glance her way, intending it to be quick. Instead, he locked eyes with her and couldn’t turn away. He knew his gaze conveyed his sadness and turmoil. And he’d expect to see the same staring back. He didn’t. She was being Nox, her hard shell on display in all its don’t-give-a-damn glory.
She broke eye contact first. “It’s time to close this box out.” She snatched the ring from the metal container, opened a zipper pocket on her right leg, and let it fall in.
As if it were no big deal.
It was a very big fucking deal. The biggest deal of his life in fact. And he’d been so cavalier about them being a couple that she’d stashed it away instead of wearing it. What a colossal asshole he was.
He swiped the pouch with the encrypted data tucked safely inside that she’d left on the table and then followed her to wait outside the office door while she signed the paperwork to close her account.
The hope of starting over, fresh, tingled the back of his neck. When tonight was over and they were both alive, he was going to have a talk with her. He wanted a second shot at being her husband. He could do better—he could do justice to that ring, their marriage, her, and make the future what she deserved. What he longed for. He’d do so many things differently. She’d even said she wanted to settle down. With some begging she might consider Seattle.
“Ready?” She emerged from the room, and he nodded. He was scared if he spoke it would be a high-pitched mess that would lead to crying. And a man of his stature crying in a bank would scare people.
The silence stretched to awkwardness as they reached the parking lot. He started the truck, put it in drive, and then shoved the shifter back to park. The truck rocked at his jerky movements then settled in place. If they addressed the elephant in the room, then they could both get on with it. The evening’s events were too important for either of them to be even the slightest bit distracted.
“When did you put your ring in the bank?” He spoke quietly and leaned back in his seat to face her.
She didn’t move but tilted her head down, running her left hand over where he’d once put a ring on her finger.
Please don’t come up with a story.
“It doesn’t really matter when, does it? Just that I did.”
He nodded. He didn’t blame her for not knocking on his door when she’d been in town, but his heart hurt anyway. And his gut—that fucker was in serious turmoil. “We are so fucked up.”
Her head jerked up, and she stared at him, a sad grin starting on one side of her lips. “The really screwed up thing is I actually flew here to run into your arms and tell you what was going on … and then couldn’t. I think I knew then it was over.”
Gut. Punch.
She chuckled with no humor. “I’m not great at goodbyes.” Her words were barely audible.
He’d been the one to say divorce, but she’d been thinking it for years—or whenever she’d taken off her wedding ring. The hope of a do-over that had started to kindle exploded right before his eyes. His chest felt hollow. At this rate, all Darek would have to do was put one finger on him and Felix would fall over—he’d been beaten up too much today already.
Arabella, a beauty among beauties, someone who was his equal in a fight, someone he couldn’t run over or intimidate or get bored with, was sitting next to him telling him she’d accepted that they were done, and he had no words to convince her to stay. He’d already fucked up her life enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Arabella flattened the bulletproof vest over her chest with her palms. It was not as thick as the standard-issue police department vests, but it would still be noticeable under her shirt, which was why she was going to wear a jacket to this little party.
“I don’t think this is going to work.” She shook her head in Felix’s direction. He’d been the one insisting on the extra protection.
She checked out his shirt—she could barely tell he had a vest on, although he was big, broad, and assuming already, so another couple of inches weren’t that noticeable on him.
He stepped behind her, reached to her waist, and undid the Velcro. Her belly fluttered at his touch and the overall raw sexual energy that constantly buzzed around him. Or passed between them naturally. Or that she always felt with him because he was her husband.
“There.” He shimmied the vest down toward her hips, apparently satisfied from his rear view.
Since their afternoon fun at the bank, she hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes. It hurt too much. The guy calling her Mrs. Ibarra had made her cringe. Felix nosing his way into finding the ring had made her mad. Then the exchange in the truck had made it all worse. Or better. If you were Felix. This is what he wanted.
The ring remained in her pocket. She had nowhere else to put it. And what would she do with it once the ink was dry on the divorce decree—sell it on eBay, bedazzle a shirt with the stones, melt it into a paperweight?
They’d gone back to the Wyn Security office to run through the plans again and get loaded up. Five o’clock could not come fast enough. Anxiety riddled her limbs and started to get into her head. She’d been on a hundred missions, some by herself and some surrounded by a team. She’d lived through each one. She’d get through this one, too. And if she didn’t, she could certainly rest in peace knowing that Felix would make sure Darek and anyone else responsible died a very painful death.
Unless, of course, Felix turned her over to Darek for real. In that case, not even angels with harps floating on fluffy clouds could keep her from tearing three layers of skin off Felix’s body with hot pinchers. The incident with Safar hadn’t been Felix’s fault. It had been easier to blame him though. Now she’d see once and for all where she stood with Felix.
“You got your knives?” he asked, still behind her. She could practically feel his warm breath on her neck.
Goose bumps prickled the back of her neck and shoulders. What if he hugged her tight and told her he was in love with her and wanted to live happily ever after? She scoffed. Never going to happen. He might hug her, but then he’d tell her to aim for center mass.
“I want to know what you’re fucking armed with.” His gruff tone was loud.
She slowly turned to face him, eyebrows raised. What the hell was his problem?
“You can balk at my questions all you want, but answer them.”
Whoops, he’d thought she’d thrown him attitude about the knives. Well, making him mad was fine by her. She didn’t exactly need him in a good mood when they dealt with Darek anyway.
“Two in each boot.” Her favorite set of knives hadn’t left her side since this whole thing started. Even when she was with Felix. A girl had to be able to protect herself.
“Your gun?” he persisted.
“I didn’t bring the Walther. I don’t want it getting taken away if he’s got bodyguards there to frisk us.” I love that gun.
“Here.” Felix reached into a closet that had been made into an armory of sorts in Winter’s office and pulled out a small black Beretta like the one he carried. “Take this one.”
“If I would have worn a skirt, I would’ve had a chance at keeping it.” She winked at him. “But you’re just basically throwing this piece away.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
She touched her ear again. They’d all put their comms back in, and she didn’t know if Eddie was already monitoring conversations. She didn’t even want to think of the possibility that Eddie had heard everything through Felix’s that afternoon.
She gazed into his stern, light blue eyes and shimmied the gun under the vest and in between her breasts. “Happy?” She wiggled around a little to settle to new contents on her chest. It was a good thing he picked the smallest 9mm Beretta made.
“Extremely.” His hot gaze smoked a hole right through her. Was he going to kiss her or yell at her? She couldn’t tell. “You keep touching your ear.”
“It feels weird.” She wiggled her nose in a poor attempt to move the comm around in her ear.
Felix stepped closer—the man had already been close enough to touch, and now he was practically close enough to feel. Heat radiated from his arms to hers. If she cocked a hip, her inner thigh would rub his leg. Just one easy, perfectly normal action could put them in an intimate position. The temptation was real. How was she ever going to excise him from her life, her memories? Alcohol. After she was discharged, she might just spend a week on a beach or in the mountains somewhere drinking Felix away with a hardy tequila.
“Let me see.” He moved a couple of stray hairs behind her ear, and a tingle shot straight from his fingertips to southern parts of her that yearned for him. She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. The rest of her buzzed, anticipation for his next move mounting. Would he touch her cheek, neck, hips? Would he kiss her? It was almost too much.
She titled her head to the left, her bare neck feeling overly exposed. His big fingers felt light against her skin as he checked the placement of her earbud then trailed them down her neck before pulling away and leaving her with a line of prickling desire.
“Looks good.” His voice was husky. “You’ll get used to it.”
She doubted it, but she only had to deal with it for a couple more hours.
“What about you?” She righted her neck, but he didn’t back away. Her chest pushed against the blasted vest, and she felt claustrophobic as her breathing picked up. She wanted to press her lips against his and break the hard barrier they’d formed after the bank. It was official—she was a glutton for punishment. “How armed are you?”
“I have more weapons on me than you’d know what to do with.”
That was one hell of a statement.
“Try me.” She arched a brow.
“Four guns, multiple knives, tactical pen, and these.” He raised his palms toward her. “They might not be as good as your right hook though.” He petted his jaw.
The ends of her lips curved up.
“Few things are.” She searched his eyes, not wanting this moment, their closeness to end. This was it for them. She could feel it. “You have your own tell, too, you know.”
Felix raised his eyebrows.
“A certain muscle jump in your jaw.”
His gaze danced with amusement. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“Maybe nobody studied you like I have before.”
Felix’s gaze dropped to her lips. And her lungs deflated right along with his glance. One kiss. She just wanted one more kiss.
“I suppose not.” The humor in his eyes disappeared. “We want to get in and out.”
She nodded once. There’d be no kiss. His serious, strategic face had hard lines and a piercing stare. Work Felix was so remarkably sexy she could barely focus on the situation they were about to walk into.
“Nothing funny or fancy, and it’ll work out.” His low words meant business. She had the feeling if he could’ve sat her on the sidelines of the hoopla tonight, he would’ve. But he couldn’t do this job alone. Right now he needed her. They needed to be the team they used to be, the team they were when they were ambushed yesterday.
“My goal is not to rock the boat tonight.” She kept her gaze steady, daring him to blink.
Sure, she’d thought of other plans as the Wyn Security crew discussed contingencies. And she’d pictured shooting Darek in the face more than once.
His gaze roamed over her hair, down her chest, and then back to her eyes. “Our approach is solid. We’ll have backup everywhere. No trigger fingers.”
Damn him.
“I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder anymore. Four months is long enough. I want this to be over, too.” She winced inside at the double meaning but didn’t let it show. He could suck on that jab. Served him right.
She didn’t care why Darek stopped hunting her—dead or imprisoned, either would do.
“It’s go time.” Eddie stuck his head into Winter’s office.
It was indeed go time. She was about to be free of a four-month nightmare. She should be amped and ready to kick some ass. Instead, she wished she had more time. Time with Felix. This was it, after all. There’d be no excuses to see him, talk to him, or kiss him in a couple of hours.
