The Hitman's Mistake

by Sally Brandle

  The bites of dinner she’d eaten sat heavily in her stomach. Her priorities necessitated a choice. The right choice for both of them.

  “Sam hinted there might be changes in my job title.” Grant sat back in his chair, the most relaxed she’d seen him, except in bed this morning.

  The waiter centered three dessert plates on the table, and John took the lead by spearing a piece of cheesecake. “So, off to the college life, Miranda? If you need a water break, Amphi’s available.” John offered.

  “Uggh. What is it with my friends?” Grant moaned. “They all figure they can bird dog me when I find my perfect woman.”

  Miranda smoothed the tablecloth. Perfect woman she was not. A perfect woman would accept Grant and not break into a sweat every time his gun appeared. A perfect woman wouldn’t risk asking her man to choose between his career advancement or spending a dull life with her and their children. Because she loved him, she would be perfectly miserable alone while conquering her past.

  Pat tipped her head toward Miranda. “If you need a little tranquility, come to Emma Springs.” She spooned tiramisu onto her plate. “You don’t eat dessert?”

  Miranda folded her napkin and laid it by the side of her plate. “Not tonight. I think I’ll let my stomach settle after a perfect dinner.”

  Grant, John, and Tom fought over the last two bites of chocolate cake, sparring with their tined spears.

  How appropriate, fight scenes played out before the curtain dropped. An emptiness burrowed deep into Miranda’s soul, knowing the decision she had to make. She’d reached a plateau, free to move on.

  Freedom brought an avalanche of new vulnerability.

  ~ ~ ~

  Grant shifted in his chair and rotated his untouched after-dinner scotch. His sense of an impending crisis heightened to maximum alert.

  He’d seen the team of agents pull up after Sam dropped them off. The restaurant building was secure.

  It was Miranda’s behavior that was off. She’d kept to curt responses, while his folks and John chatted happily over the background music.

  A woman fronting a trio of musicians sang out a slow Patsy Cline song. On the dance floor, several couples swayed to the tune.

  Dancing would soothe both their nerves. He leaned close to her ear, breathing in her scent. “I promised you a celebration dance. Join me?”

  “Yes, please,” she whispered.

  He grasped her hand, aware of the current drawing them together. The pulse deepened after her palm rested on the top of his arm.

  When he settled his hands at her waist, she draped her arms over his shoulders, resting her cheek under his chin. He’d swear his heart beat stronger, pressed against hers.

  They moved together in sensual unison, their bodies attuned. The music surrounded them for precious minutes, shutting out the world.

  As the last chord struck, she lifted her face, love shining in her eyes.

  He pulled her close and brushed his lips onto hers. Her breathy response sent waves deep into his heart—an awakening he welcomed.

  Releasing her tortured him.

  Not a word was spoken between them, not at the end of the song, not after they’d left the restaurant, and not on the boat ride. A magical spell had been cast which neither of them dared to break.

  She had to want a future together.

  Or what the hell would he do?

  Chapter 19

  A step toward Morley honor could be presented to him this morning. Anticipation should be bouncing through his body, but it wasn’t.

  He exited the elevator on the floor housing the high-level FBI personnel and knocked on the first open door. Neil Markson, their assistant director, had stepped in until the bureau filled Fortuna’s position of SAC.

  “Come in, Grant.” Neil minimized the page on his computer. “This offer ought to put a big smile on your face.” He tipped his chin. “I hope your family had a relaxing evening.”

  Nothing regarding Miranda’s restrained demeanor had been relaxing. She’d retired immediately after they’d arrived at John’s house and had been shoveling dirt when he’d left today.

  “Yes, sir.” Grant took the chair opposite Neil’s desk. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “In reviewing your file, you’ll be sitting at my desk soon. How’d you like the title Assistant Special Agent in Charge, at our resident agency in Reno?”

  Grant leaned forward, holding onto both armrests. “I’m honored to be considered.”

  “An unrecognized criminal element’s dominating the meth trade in Reno. After what you accomplished diving into this case, the department anticipates you can make a real difference in that leadership role.”

  Pride welled in his chest. He’d done it. “I’ll accept, sir.”

  Neil slid a stack of papers across his desk. “Sign these transfer documents, and we’ll have you in your new job by next week. They need you immediately.”

  Grant skimmed the top page, and turned to the second. “Nice pay increase.”

  “Ah, well, I need to tell you, the previous ASAC and a partner got ambushed in a parking garage. They’re on permanent disability.”

  Considering the nearly double jump in pay, it was a justifiable risk. He suspended the pen above the page. A prick of misgiving nicked his gut, and then he scribbled his name. “I’ll handle Reno.”

  “Deal.”

  Neil’s firm handshake boosted Grant’s optimism. “The bureau has high hopes for you. Now, and in the future. Good luck.” He ushered him to the door. “Please thank your family again for their cooperation in the Maneski case.”

  “Sure thing.” The door clicked shut behind him. He spotted a men’s room and ducked inside.

  Reno. Could Miranda flourish under blocks of neon lights? He leaned against the sink. In a few years he’d be able to transfer, and meantime, the casinos must use tons of plants. Hell, she’d thrive in the sunshine. She wouldn’t have to work with his raise in pay.

  He pulled his phone out and dialed John. “Hey, boat drivin’ buddy. I hope I can trouble you to bring Miranda in for dinner.”

  “Matter of fact, I’m meeting clients tonight in Seattle. I can get you in at Blaine’s if it’s a special evening.”

  Grant tapped his fingers on the counter. “Yes. I’ll need the most romantic table in the place.”

  “I’ll dock at six and bring Miranda. Good luck.”

  A sense of accomplishment filled him, shadowed by a long finger of doubt. He punched in a memorized number.

  A familiar gruff voice answered on the third ring. “Tom?”

  “Nope, it’s Grant.” He squared his shoulders. “Poppy, I did it. I’ve been promoted to oversee our team in Reno’s satellite office. A second Morley reached ASAC today. I wanted you to be the first in the family to know.”

  “Wonderful, son. Pat mentioned you and Miranda are getting along swell. She excited about Reno?”

  “I’m going to tell her over dinner,” he said, “and ask her to marry me.” He leaned against the sink and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Can’t picture Miranda amongst a bunch of gamblers,” he grumbled. “A good woman’s worth more than a nameplate. You’ve sidelined everything for your career.”

  “I did what it took.” Grant bristled.

  “At a personal cost. I never regretted leaving the bureau. It gave me fifteen wonderful more years to love your grandmother. The summers the three of us spent together when you were a boy were some of the best parts of my life.”

  “Wait—your job meant everything.”

  “Yup, until I had a hothead moment after a key witness wouldn’t testify. Turned out to be the best gift I didn’t receive,” he joked.

  “Losing a big case was a gift?” Grant stammered.

  “
Best one except for meeting your grandmother. You were in college when she passed away. I miss her every day, not the job. You don’t know the meaning of love until you’ve lost it.”

  “I’m beginning to understand.”

  “Can’t wait to see your Miranda again. Bring her back soon.”

  His Miranda. He loosened his tie. “I’m hoping after tonight she’ll be wearing grandma’s diamond. Leave it to Mom to have packed it.”

  “Your dad picked a special lady,” Poppy said. “Runs in the family. Good luck.”

  “Thanks Poppy, for everything.”

  He might need more than luck to get Miranda to leave Seattle and her friends. They’d work out the geography. Next on the agenda, he’d hit his closet and find his best suit.

  Driving to the apartment, he spotted a pocket park, green and lush from the last rain. He slowed his car. Miranda would know the name of every sprout.

  Reno however, conjured images of arid desert, strong wind, and glitzy casinos. Would Miranda relocate for him? He stepped into the bright lights of his building, and his foot stumbled.

  ~ ~ ~

  “There’s your man, standing on Blaine’s dock awaiting the arrival of the woman who captured his heart.” John slowed the boat.

  Miranda fingered the strand of pearls around her neck. A Morley family heirloom, loaned to her for tonight in the expectation of an event which wouldn’t happen. Not yet anyway.

  John surveyed the duffel bag she’d brought aboard. “Remember, I’m not giving up on you two.”

  Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot. “And I’m not ready.”

  “Don’t rush into big decisions.” John parked the boat and threw a line to Grant.

  “Hi, gorgeous.” Grant took her hand, helping her from the boat to the dock. “Can you get us at ten, John? Thanks again. You’ve accrued unlimited vacation days in Emma Springs.”

  “I’m going to make time to collect.” John tied off the last rope and set Miranda’s bag onto the dock. He handed Grant a tiny box. “From your mom. Enjoy dinner.”

  Miranda shouldered the duffel and eyed the black case Grant slid into his pocket. She’d overheard Pat whisper ‘ring’ to John. Could she accept his life if he popped the question?

  “You look radiant.” He drew her into his arms and gave her a lingering kiss, holding her tight.

  She committed every movement of his muscled body to memory while her heart slipped a little further. “Your mom gave me a dress she’s never worn.”

  “Even more to celebrate.” He put his hand on her back, hitting the strap of Corrin’s gym bag. A frown marred his glow while he ushered her through the etched glass doors. “I’ll have the maître de stow your duffel. I’d hoped you’d stay another night at John’s.”

  With him lying beside her? No, no, no. Miranda stepped inside the elegant entry. “The apartment’s safe, and Corrin and I have a lot to discuss.”

  A waiter settled them into a private alcove. An ice bucket held a bottle of champagne. “Compliments of John Fleckard,” he stated, and popped the cork.

  Golden liquid flowed into two tall flutes.

  Trails of bubbles released from the bottom, shot to the top, and exploded. If her brain was the narrow-stemmed glass, her innermost desires to stay with Grant were the uncontrolled bubbles.

  “I accepted a promotion today.” Grant tipped his flute to clink against hers. “I’ll be ASAC in Reno. They figure I’m ready for the challenge, which puts me one away from SAC.”

  His broad smile softened all the angled planes on his face.

  She took a sip of champagne, and set the glass down before she spilled any of it onto the white linen.

  Her golden bubbles had burst. He’d agreed to Reno without considering her feelings. Worse yet, a new crime-ridden city fulfilled his goal.

  She forced her mouth into a smile, and watched excitement animate his face while he laid out his future.

  “Reno’s a quick flight from Seattle,” he continued. “And I bet the casinos need your green thumb.” Sliding one hand across the table, he moved his other hand toward his pocket. “Miranda, you know I—”

  She couldn’t hear it again. “Hold on. You took a job out of state without asking my opinion. Is this how it’ll always be? You make all the plans for both of us?”

  “Well, no. I thought maybe you’d be excited for me.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  He shifted in his seat. “All cities have criminals to contend with. The counseling will help your anxiety about guns.”

  “I want a stable family life with children, and I saw the snip doctor’s card you dropped. Kids and puppies would hold back your career.”

  His face fell. “Right now, they would. Maybe not in the future, say in three or four years. That card came from Bo as a joke, he’d just found out they’re having their third.”

  Her trembling fingers undid the clasp on the borrowed pearls. Their smooth warmth weighed heavy in her hand before she dropped them into his open palm.

  His color paled. “Are we okay?”

  He wouldn’t force her into his plans. She slid out of the chair. “I need a little time alone.”

  A boisterous group of diners rose to leave. She wove through them, intent on one thing. Escape.

  She passed the restrooms and veered to the entry.

  The maître d’ and another man stood at the reception desk.

  “Please get me a cab and my blue gym bag. Fast.” The words spilled out, her voice shrill.

  One of them opened a door, waving his arms. The other handed off her bag. “How else can we assist, mademoiselle?”

  Her chest tightened. “You can’t.”

  Right now, she’d convert back to a cowering mess at the first mention of gunshots. Guided by a therapist, her future self might be able to stand beside him in support.

  For a moment there, she’d almost caved. His pull became magnified by how gorgeous he looked in the dark suit. His lips had quivered as he’d prepared to tell her he loved her again and propose.

  One more thought of those lips, and she’d be running to their table. But only a total coward of the lowest degree wouldn’t offer Grant an explanation.

  Miranda pulled a business card out of the rack on the wooden kiosk. Her purse held the temporary phone, a pen, and her lip gloss.

  It took every ounce of courage to write on the back of the card.

  She handed the maître d’ the bureau-issued cell phone and the card carrying her note. “Please give these to the tall gentleman in the black suit I came in with.”

  “Yes, of course.” He helped her into her coat.

  Grant began pushing his way through the crowded entry. Shock marred his handsome face.

  She spun around and ran to the open door of a taxi. “Capitol Hill. Hurry.”

  The driver sped her away from another woman’s dream life.

  Music in the cab blared while tears splashed onto her lap, her heart releasing a pool of regrets.

  Two written words on the back of someone else’s business card changed the course of her immediate future.

  NOT READY.

  ~ ~ ~

  Grant spotted John on the dock and ran to him. “She bolted. Can you believe it?” He pulled out his phone and fumbled while punching numbers. “Agent Morley here,” he announced to the bureau call center. “Miranda Whitley left the waterfront unescorted in a taxi. Please alert the agents watching her apartment. I assume she’ll be arriving shortly. Keep me appraised.”

  John stepped to his side. “Take a breath, Grant. Your face is bright red.”

  “I’m fine. I need a car to go after her.” He scanned the street.

  Another taxi pulled into the restaurant’s drop off area.

  “There.
A cab.”

  “Slow down.” John grabbed his sleeve. “I’ve seen you in ticked-off mode. Don’t confront her right now. You may say things you’ll regret.”

  “She left without giving me a chance to talk things out.” He thumped his fist on a light post.

  “She must’ve had good reasons.” John untied the bowline, and leapt aboard. “If Miranda’s safe, come back to my house and make a plan.”

  His chest hurt as if he’d been run over by an armored BearCat. “Damn plans.”

  “Trust me on this one.”

  John should know, he’d been through worse hell. Grant nodded and stepped aboard, unable to speak. His phone vibrated with a text. Miranda Whitley arrived home without incident.

  But what about him?

  They crossed the Sound, cutting through thick fog. John moored the boat, steered him onto the walkway, and pushed him through the door.

  His parents were seated in the living room.

  “We’re home. Not good news,” John announced.

  “Grant, what’s happened?” Tom rose from the couch and searched the doorway. “Where’s Miranda? Did Maneski’s thugs kidnap her?”

  Distress penetrated Grant’s flattened world. “No. I got word she’s in her apartment.”

  His mom took his arm and led him to the couch. “You’re pale. Sit down and talk through it, honey. “

  “I didn’t get a chance to propose and ask her to join me in Reno.” He tried to clear his dry throat. “I described my promotion to ASAC. She got upset I’d accepted the job without consulting her and questioned the danger. She wants kids. I said maybe in a couple of years. She excused herself and left.”

  John put a glass of water in Grant’s hand. “Drink this, buddy. I’ll get you whiskey after your color comes back.”

  “I believed she loved me as much as I love her.” He gulped a swallow of water.

  “I think she does,” John offered quietly.

  The strand of pearls rippled while it left his pocket.