“It means I don’t know if I know him.” She hoped the ache in her heart wouldn’t show on her face. Why . . . those had been her last words to him.
Had he set the fire?
That was a stupid question, she realized. Of course he had. The real question was, had he gotten out?
Her heart lurched, just thinking about it. Gus had always acted like he wouldn’t be surprised if the trip to Mexico turned out to be a one-way thing. But Alex, what about Alex?
What about me . . .
If Gus was dead . . . no! She shoved the thought aside before it could even settle. No.
She’d get answers. Somehow. Once she had them, then she’d deal . . . somehow.
She peered at the image, head cocked. Tears burned inside her throat, in her chest. Gus . . .
“It could be almost anybody, sir,” she said softly.
“Yes.” He stared at her, his gaze unreadable. “I suppose it could.”
* * *
JONES returned nearly thirty minutes after he’d escorted Moran out.
He spoke to Nalini, and although Vaughnne was right there, she couldn’t recall much of anything he said. It was like he was speaking another language.
But then Nalini left, Grady following along behind her. Joss lingered a few more minutes and then he left as well.
The door shut and the tension in the room almost shattered her, and she was hovering on the brink as it was, about to come out of her skin. She’d spent every second of the past half hour on her iPhone, trying to unearth details about the fire, but she hadn’t learned anything. The boys down in Mexico were keeping that little mess locked down tight. There wasn’t even any information about Reyes’s death, and that should be front-page news.
Feeling the weight of Jones’s stare, she made herself look away from the phone and focus on her boss.
His steely blue eyes should have made her nervous.
But she was already sick with fear, pain. What the hell did it matter if her job was in jeopardy just then?
“The man you lied to is one of the higher-ranking diplomats,” Jones said, his voice a cold slice in the room.
She lifted a brow, refusing to let herself react. “Hey, did you see that picture? Shit, I can find you five men in this damn building now who could probably pass for that guy in the picture.”
“You could,” he agreed. “Give me twenty minutes and some hair dye, and I could pass for the guy in the picture. But you knew who it was. I saw it in your eyes, Vaughnne, and if that man knew you at all, he would have seen it, too.”
Spinning away, she paced over to the window and stared outside. “What do you want me to say, Jones?” she asked softly. “I can’t help him. I don’t know where Gus is. Where he was going. What he is planning.”
“Did you know he was going to blow the house up?”
She closed her eyes. “No.”
But maybe she should have thought that through. Gus wouldn’t have risked leaving any sign that might lead to Alex. If Reyes had left anything behind that could point the way to the kid, then Gus would have razed an entire country to the ground to protect his nephew.
Blowing up a house? He wouldn’t even think twice.
“Was there any word about him?” she asked.
A heavy, taut silence weighed between them, and finally, a soft sigh drifted from Taylor. “That’s why he was here, Vaughnne—looking for information. He didn’t say it in as many words, but that was my take on it.”
“He could have been in the house,” she said, and a lance of pain went through her, so deep, so crippling, it almost drove her to her knees. Not Gus. No. It hurt even to think about it. But the thought was there, settling in her mind and growing roots. She couldn’t knock it.
“If . . .” She had to stop and clear her throat before she could continue. “If he was, then that means Alex has nobody, Taylor. Nobody. He’s a gifted kid who has had a life of hell. If he’s lost his uncle . . .”
“Maybe his uncle should have thought of that,” Taylor bit off. Then he swore.
She turned around to look at him, watched as he reached up to tug at his tie. She had to focus, see this through, even if her heart was bleeding inside. “But that’s not Alex’s fault.”
He gave her a dark look. “I know that.”
“So what happens to him?” She’d promised. And no matter what, no matter how much she hurt, she’d see that promise through. “You can’t just send him back to Mexico. He has nobody. Has nothing. And—”
He lifted a hand, staring at the wall. “You know I’m not going to do that, Vaughnne, so just stop.” He tugged his askew tie off, glanced at it, and then sighed, draping it around his neck so that the ends hung free. “Even if it wasn’t for his . . . circumstances, he’s a victim of the situation. But he’s got months ahead of him before he’ll have his gift under control. We have to make sure he’s trained before he ends up another target. And we have to keep him safe. Assuming, of course, his uncle doesn’t show up.” His lip curled. “It just might be easier if his uncle never showed his face again.”
“Shut the hell up, Jones,” she said, the words flying out of her mouth before she could silence them.
When Taylor shifted his gaze to her, she stared right back at him. She’d already jacked this job up. What did it matter if she said what she thought now?
His steely eyes bored into hers and she lifted her chin. “What?” she demanded.
“You might want to check the attitude, Vaughnne,” he said softly. “You have caused so much trouble, I don’t even know if I can begin to fix all of this, so cut the bullshit.”
“Cut the bullshit?” She gaped at him. “That man was willing to do whatever it took to protect his nephew. Whatever it took. All they had was each other and Gus might be—”
Her voice cracked and she spun away, lifting her hands to hide her face. She couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now.
Behind her, she heard a sigh. A moment later, Taylor tugged on her shoulder. She jerked away, but he just pulled again, and a moment later, she found herself caught in Taylor’s arms, her face pressed against his chest. The terrified tears were still trapped inside, though. She couldn’t let them out. Not here. Not now.
Taylor was more than just her boss. He might be a straitlaced bastard and the world saw a cold piece of work, but he was the closest thing to family she had. But she wasn’t ready to break around him. She closed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists, and made herself breathe. She had to breathe, had to function and focus so she could ask him what she needed to know.
One minute after another slowly passed, but finally, she thought she could manage. “Do you know anything?”
His chest rose and fell on a sigh. He squeezed her gently and then eased back, studying her face. He still looked pissed, she decided. But his eyes were a little less icy. “Some, yes.” He moved away and took up a position at the window, staring outside. “Moran is mostly on a fishing expedition, Vaughnne. If he knew where Gus was, he wouldn’t be fishing.”
A few seconds of silence passed and the ache that might have hope swelled inside her. Taylor flicked her a glance. “Dead bodies are usually pretty easy to locate in a fire, you know. If you weren’t so . . . close to this, you’d have already come to that conclusion, I guess. If Gus was one of his, he would have already done what was necessary to ID him.”
“One of his . . .”
A faint smile came and went on Taylor’s face. “Give me some credit, Vaughnne. I’ve pieced some things together about him, you know. And I know what kind of operation Moran runs. Although if I’d had any clue who Gus was before this . . .” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.
“You would have done exactly what you did,” she finished. “A kid was involved. You and I both know . . . kids are worth it.” She closed her eyes. “One of his. Why didn’t he go to Moran back then?”
“Too many corrupt people,” he murmured. “Reyes had a very, very long reach. I imagine he didn’t want to risk th
e boy.”
“No. He wouldn’t have taken the chance.” She rubbed her eyes. She pushed all thought of Gus out of her head. She’d think about him later. When she could actually do it and not worry about others seeing her fall apart. “What’s going to happen with Alex now?”
“For now, he stays where he is,” Taylor said, his voice flat. “Until we know more, there’s nothing else that can be done.”
Until we know more—
She started to tremble. The need to break weighed heavily on her.
“Vaughnne.” Taylor looked over at her. “Go home. Come back tomorrow. We’ll start cleaning things up then.”
She nodded and tried a weak smile. “Should I bring a box to clean out my desk?”
“No.” He folded his arms across his chest and resumed his study of the parking lot. “I might need one by the time this is over, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
* * *
GUS had planned to do . . . something.
He didn’t know what.
But he’d planned to do . . . something when she came inside.
She came inside, a dazed, almost drugged look on her face, like she didn’t know where she was. Who she was. Part of him wanted to grab her and shake her, scold her for her carelessness, because she didn’t even look around.
He wasn’t hiding. The room was dim, but he stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, and all she had to do was look around and she’d see him.
But all she did was shut the door and flip the locks.
Then . . . she stood there.
Her back to him. Her shoulders rose and fell rapidly, and distantly, he was aware of the harsh sounds of her breathing filling the room. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the door. A sob ripped out of her. She slammed a fist against the door and the sound of it caught him off guard.
Anger and grief rolled from her, and he felt frozen there. Guilt flooded him and part of him wanted to slip out of the room, disappear, and leave her alone with whatever hurt her.
The other part of him wanted to go to her and haul her against him, make her tell him what had hurt her . . . so he could kill it. Fix it. Whatever. He didn’t know which one he was supposed to do. He was good at killing things, but fixing them? Not so much.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He wasn’t supposed to care . . . not for anything or anybody.
She wasn’t supposed to matter, yet she did. More than anybody or anything, save for Alex.
He didn’t want this inside him, but there it was.
She slammed her fist against the door and screamed, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. Shoving off the wall, he crossed the floor. He didn’t know what he was going to do, what he was going to say—
“Damn you, Gus.” The words came out in a ragged sob.
His heart jumped into his throat.
She was crying . . . over him.
He almost tripped over his feet, his shoes scuffing on the hardwood floors.
She gasped and whirled around.
He saw her hand go to the weapon strapped to her waist, and he moved, catching her wrist and pinning it to the wall.
Her eyes went wide, damp and glinting with tears, as she stared at him.
“Gus . . .”
“Damning me finally?” he whispered.
She sucked in a breath and reached up, fisting her hand in his shirt. “You . . . you’re okay.”
Reaching over, he caught the weapon and tugged until she let go of her Glock. He laid it down on the small table to his left. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Why are you crying, Vaughnne?”
She sniffed and reached up, swiping the tears from her face. “I’m not.” She lifted her chin and glared at him.
“Of course you’re not.” Unable to resist another moment, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers. She tasted of tears and her and he was starved for her. He lifted his head a fraction. “If you don’t want this, then you better stop me . . . now.”
Her response was to reach for his shirt and strip it off.
If he were any sort of decent, he’d slow this down. Talk to her. He’d be lying if he tried to tell himself he hadn’t come for this. He hadn’t come only for this. He’d wanted to touch her, feel her underneath one more time . . . to take her in a bed and take his time with her.
One night. One night when he didn’t have to worry about all the burdens he’d carried for so long. One night when all that mattered was the two of them.
But Gus had stopped worrying about being decent a long, long time ago. So as his shirt fell to the floor, he reached for the neat little line of buttons marching up the center of her prim white shirt. “You look so neat and put together, Vaughnne,” he murmured, freeing first one button, then another, watching as he bared one inch of skin at a time. “I’m going to enjoy watching you come apart for me.”
She leaned back against the door, her hands falling to hang loose at her sides. “I’ve been doing that almost since the first second I laid eyes on you, sugar.” A smile curved her wide, sexy mouth, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and if he’d let himself look, he knew what he would have seen.
She knew, he realized. Had some idea of just why he was there.
And it just made him that much more of a bastard. But he didn’t care.
When he reached the final button, instead of pushing the shirt off her shoulders, he let it hang open, revealing the narrow line of her sleek torso, the lace edging of her bra. He traced one finger down the midline of her body, stopping when he reached the waist of her trousers, the sturdy leather of her holster. Still holding her gaze, he unbuckled it, unbuttoned her trousers.
Vaughnne stood there, silent and watching him with solemn eyes. He leaned in and nipped her lower lip, pressed a kiss to her neck, moving in a line straight downward until he was kneeling in front of her.
She wore a pair of low-heel ankle boots and he tugged them off, setting them neatly by the door. Vaughnne kept a tidy little nest, something he’d noticed when he let himself inside. He wouldn’t leave any sign of himself when he left . . . other than what he was doing to her now. Glancing up at her, he saw her lashes were closed, her head was tipped back, and her hands were braced against the door, curled into tight fists that left her knuckles bloodless.
He wanted her clutching at him that tightly.
Wanted to hear that smart mouth, the cocky attitude that had driven him insane the past few weeks.
But when he tried to reach for the words to say something, anything to tease it out of her, he couldn’t find them. So instead of saying anything, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her belly as he caught the waist of her trousers and dragged them down over the swell of her hips, her thighs, down until she could step out of the puddle of material.
Rising, he stood in front of her, arms braced on the door by either side of her head, waiting for her to look at him.
Seconds ticked away, and finally, she lifted her lids, staring at him with dark, unreadable eyes.
He opened his mouth, determined to find something to say. Something. Anything. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a handful of words. He’d lived most of his life by them. Glib lies, charming little half-truths . . . all of them said to people who meant less than nothing. And here he stood with a woman who meant everything and he couldn’t find anything to ease the pain he sensed was inside her.
Before he managed to find even one damn thing to say, Vaughnne reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. “Take me to bed, Gus,” she said quietly. “We can have that one night now, right?”
TWENTY-THREE
HIS face was stark, his eyes so hungry and hot, they burned as he stared down at her.
For the first time, she felt almost nervous. Almost anxious. It seemed like there was something brewing inside him. She could feel the storm of it, but whatever it was, Vaughnne knew it wasn’t going to change anything.
She’d realized why he was
here within seconds of laying eyes on him.
He was here to say good-bye.
Maybe he was going to say thanks. Maybe he was going to tell her to stay out of his way. Maybe he was going to tell her to stay silent. Maybe he’d say a lot of other things. But one thing he’d definitely say . . . good-bye.
Fine.
She could live with that, because she knew what mattered the most . . . he was alive. Whatever had happened in Mexico after she’d gotten Nalini out of there, he hadn’t died. Gus was alive and she would be okay with whatever else might come. Because she knew he was alive. Maybe she’d never get all the answers she needed, maybe she’d never have anything more than this . . . but she knew he was alive. And he’d done what he’d set out to do. He’d made sure Alex was safe.
Slowly, he reached for her, and as he wrapped his arms around her, she curled hers around his neck, shuddering at the feel of his body pressed against hers again. Over the past few days, she’d missed this . . . wondered if she’d ever feel it again, and it had sucked. But then Moran had shown up and she’d had to wonder if Gus was just gone. That vivid, burning blaze of him gone . . . and that had hurt so much she had thought she was dying inside.
He boosted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her breath catching as it brought him in contact with the sensitive flesh between her thighs. She pressed her brow to his. “My bedroom is down the hall.”
He found it unerringly and she realized he’d probably spent some time poking around her house while waiting for her. She should be pissed about that. She might be later. Matter of fact, she’d almost make a mental note to do that, just to distract herself from the misery that waited for her. But for that moment, she didn’t care. He was here. One more night. They were together. One more night. That was all the mattered. She’d worry about everything else after it was over.
Once they were inside her room, she unhooked her legs and let him guide her to the floor. Settling down in front of him, she rested her hands on his chest, vaguely aware that she’d started to shiver.
Gus noticed. He stroked his hands down her arms. “You’re cold.”
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