She gave me a curt nod, her face red. “So you know you can trust me.”
Damn. She had a point. I still needed to play it smart though. I considered for a moment and then decided to compromise. “I think I've given you enough to figure it out. That'll give you somewhere to start, but I won't go on record with a name until I read that deal.”
Her mouth tightened. “Uaine Leconte.”
“He's dangerous,” I repeated my warning.
She met my gaze, her eyes flashing. “So am I.”
She turned away and started toward the agency carpool. I watched her for a moment, letting her words sink in.
Damn right she was dangerous.
I just wasn't sure who was in more danger. Uaine or me.
Chapter Seven
Karis
I hated driving agency cars, but the safe house was further away than my apartment. We rode in silence, but I could feel the electricity crackling between us. I didn't doubt that he could feel it too, but I didn't think either of us were ready to acknowledge it yet. I had a feeling we wouldn't be able to avoid it for long though, not if we were going to be spending so much time together.
Thanks to traffic, it took us nearly twenty minutes to get to the safe house – okay, technically it was an apartment, but safe apartment sounded weird – but as I started to pull up to the curb, Bron grabbed my arm. I gave him a sharp look.
“Hands off, Murray.”
“Don't stop,” he said.
I should've bristled at the command in his voice, but I could feel the tension in his body, and I knew he wasn't trying to play me. I drove past the building, and down another two blocks before pulling into a space between two buildings. I turned toward Bron.
“What?”
“A couple of the guys out front, I'm pretty sure they work for Uaine.”
I blew out a breath. “Dammit.” I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket, looked at it, and then back at Bron. “Does Uaine have people inside the FBI?”
“I don't know.”
“Cut the shit, Bron. This isn't about your deal. I need to know if my agency is compromised.”
“I really don't know,” he said honestly. “He has people everywhere.”
I rubbed my temples, resisting the urge to close my eyes. I didn't trust Bron enough for that at the moment. I had a decision to make. I could go back to the safe house in the hopes that Bron was wrong. I could call Colman and request a different place to put Bron. I could ask for additional agents to watch him.
Or I could go a more unconventional route.
Colman had left it up to me how much security I wanted on Bron. With the tracker, I could monitor Bron from anywhere. I wasn't required to stay with him twenty-four seven. I'd planned on staying with him at the safe house for a little while, at least until we discussed things, but after that, I hadn't decided.
Now, however, another option was trying to make itself known. It was a bad idea. A very, very, very bad idea. Horrible. Stupid. The worst possible thing I could do.
I pulled the car out of the alley and turned left. “Are you hungry?”
I felt Bron's confusion, but he didn't ask, just answered my question. “Yeah.”
I wasn't quite ready to admit where we were going, so instead of getting my usual take-out, the two of us went into a little diner and took a booth in the back. We placed our order and sat in silence until the food came.
It was strange how good it felt to have him sitting across from me. Despite the plethora of unspoken things between us, there was still the undercurrent of camaraderie we'd always had. For a few brief moments, I was almost able to pretend that things were different. That we were two old friends meeting to catch up after having parted ways under less dramatic circumstances. Or that those missing years had never happened, and this was our routine, sharing dinner. That we'd stayed friends...that we'd become something more...
I pushed aside the thoughts before they could become even more dangerous.
Better to focus on the meal in front of me and how I was going to explain to Benita how having Bron released into my custody was a good idea. I knew there was no way I could spin the rest of this as anything but stupidity. At least, by keeping her out of it, she'd be protected if the shit hit the fan.
“You know, Karis, I don’t normally eat such fine cuisine,” Bron broke the silence as he finished the last of his hamburger.
“I’m ashamed to admit that my diet consisted mainly of greasy foods, sweets, and coffee these days,” I confessed, grateful for the safe topic.
“I know how it goes,” he said. “You get busy, and before you know it, you can’t find the time to eat what you know you should be eating. I’ve been there.” He popped his last fry into his mouth. “I have to admit that it's good though.”
“That it is.” I tossed a few bills onto the table, enough to cover the bill and a generous tip. I stood. “Ready?”
“Are you going to tell me where we're going?” he asked as we walked out of the diner and back to the company car.
I didn't look at him as I answered, “My place.”
We'd gone two blocks before he spoke again. “Do you make this commute every day?”
“When I don’t spend the night at work,” I told him as I made a turn. “Though I usually take the subway.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He looked over at me.
“I wish.” I tilted my head and stretched my neck as if just the memory of sleeping on one of the break-room couches had given me a crick.
“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” he asked, a note of concern in the question. Real concern.
I knew he was good at playing people, at making them think he cared about them. It was how con men worked. I supposed there was a possibility that he was trying to do the same to me, but my gut said he was being genuine. At least I hoped it was my gut and not my heart wanting to hear something so badly that I was lying to myself.
“I don’t remember the last time I really slept all night,” I answered honestly. “I’ve been pretty busy with your case since we started.”
And there it was. The real truth that neither of us had wanted to say. He’d come back into my life because he'd committed a crime, and I'd been the one assigned to catch him.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, his tone cool. He looked away.
Dammit.
I knew I needed him to be cooperative, but a part of me wanted to just have it out with him. Wanted to demand answers and get all of this personal stuff out of the way.
But this was work, and that had to come first.
“So, how embarrassing is it that you were outsmarted by a girl?” I kept my tone light, trying to tease him into warming back up again.
“Speaking of that,” he said. He still didn't look at me, but at least some of the ice had disappeared from his voice. “I’ve been wondering how you figured out it was me at the museum.” He paused, and then added, “Hypothetically, of course, since I don't have my deal in place.”
I pulled into the parking garage that housed cars for several nearby apartment buildings. I glanced at him and gave a truthful but purposefully vague answer, “Let's just say you couldn't avoid all reflective surfaces.”
He looked impressed. “Well, damn.”
His response startled a laugh out of me, and it suddenly became easier to breathe. I parked the car, and he followed me into the building next door. The elevator was out – of course – so we had to walk up three flights of stairs. The fact that he wasn't out of breath as he kept pace with me told me that he was in as good of shape as I'd initially suspected.
When we got to my door, I slid the key in and felt an unfamiliar wave of self-consciousness wash over me. The man standing behind me was used to five-star hotels, expensive suits and meals. The diner had been a quick bite, and it hadn't really been personal. Besides, there was a big difference between thinking that he was slumming it for a meal and realizing that he'd probably view my home in the s
ame way.
“Pardon the mess when we walk in,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “I know you’re used to five-star accommodations, but some of us work sixty-hour weeks and don't always find the time to clean.”
He gave me a funny look. “I may be used to ritzy hotels, but do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve been somewhere permanent?”
I hadn’t even thought about it, I realized with a start. I'd just assumed he lived the vagabond life of a grifter because the money was good and he enjoyed it. We'd both lost our parents and had been displaced, but I'd never been without a home. Sure, it'd been hard to get used to living with my aunt, and then on my own, but I'd always had a home.
He'd lost his, and it wasn't until now that I realized he hadn't had one since.
My heart twisted painfully in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing, Karis? You didn’t have anything to do with it.” He stared at the door, his face stony.
I wanted to protest. Wanted to tell him that I should have had something to do with it. That I should have made someone tell me where he'd been sent. Should have found him. Brought him home with me.
But I knew that nothing I said now would mean anything. I hadn't been there for him, and no apology would ever make that right.
I opened the door, and we entered my apartment.
“I know it’s not much, but it's mine.” I tossed the car keys and my purse onto the small table next to the door.
“It’s cozy,” he said.
“I guess. Make yourself at home.” I gestured toward the couch.
Shit. I hadn't considered where he'd be sleeping tonight.
He plopped down on the couch. “Comfy,” he said, bouncing a little.
“Want anything to drink?” I walked into my small kitchen. “I’ve got beer, water, and Coke.”
“I’ll take a beer,” he said.
“It’s light,” I cautioned.
“Still beer.”
I pulled out two bottles and opened them on the counter before going to sit down next to him. The couch was a decent size, but the two of us were so tall that our knees were nearly touching, and unless I wanted to go get one of the two kitchen chairs I owned, there was no way around our close proximity. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
I handed him one of the bottles and wondered what the hell we were going to do now. Usually, on the rare days I was home this early, I'd relax with a book or maybe binge some television. If we were at the safe house, I probably would've been able to make some suggestion about playing cards or watching TV and felt like I was simply passing the time. At home, however, it felt different.
“This is strange, isn’t it,” he said with an uneasy laugh. “The two of us sitting down and having a beer together. Never thought this would happen.”
“To old friends,” I said, raising my bottle to him.
“Old friends.” He took a long drink from his bottle. “So, Karis Melendez.” He sounded like he tasted my name as he said it. His eyes drifted from his bottle to my face. “Agent Karis Melendez,” he added.
I felt my face glowing and heating up with the threat of blushing. He hadn't said anything remotely suggestive, but I could feel us moving toward the things we'd been tiptoeing around all day. “Bron Du Murier,” I countered.
He laughed, a sincere one that I liked much better than the fake one he used when he was trying to be charming. “You like it? Du Murier sounded fancier than Murray.” He slid a glance at me. “I never even considered losing the name you'd given me.”
My stomach flipped. The alcohol had taken a bit of the edge off my nerves, but it couldn't seem to stop my body from responding to him. Even after all this time, a look and a few choice words made my heart skip a beat.
“You know,” he continued as he moved a bit closer. Heat radiated off of him. “I chose my aliases because a part of me always hoped that you'd hear one and come find me.”
“I noticed,” I said as I let myself lean into him. My hands itched to touch him and I curled my fingers to keep myself from doing something stupid. “I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner.”
He gave me a smile, but his eyes were sad. “Can't change the past.”
My treacherous hand cupped his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning his face against my palm. “I wish I could change what happened.”
His eyes opened and locked with mine. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. He moved slowly, his intent clear on his face. I knew what he was going to do, what he wanted, and I wanted it too. I'd been thinking about it since the first time his lips touched mine. My body screamed at me to meet him halfway, to let things take the natural course they should have taken years ago.
But I couldn’t do it.
That was a line that, no matter how badly I wanted to cross it, I couldn’t. That would have been the end of everything for me. I was already dancing a fine line here. To let him kiss me, to kiss him back, would break it completely.
“I’m sorry,” I said, fighting back tears as I pulled back. “I can't.”
“It’s okay,” he said, his tone casual despite the tension in his body. He grabbed his beer and downed the rest of it. “So, where am I sleeping tonight?”
“It’s up to you. You can have the bed or the couch,” I offered without looking up. I couldn't let him know just how much this was affecting me, especially if it hadn't meant as much to him as it did to me.
He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face until I had to look at him. “Do you come with the bed?” The question itself should've been teasing, but the desire in his eyes took away all levity.
“No, I don't.” The words felt like glass coming out of my mouth.
He dropped his hand. “Then, I’m fine with the couch.” He got up and stretched. “Where’s the bathroom?”
I pointed, and he headed that way without a backwards glance. After he closed the door behind him, I got up and grabbed a couple of blankets to dress the couch for him. I was glad he'd elected to stay out here, and not only because I knew both of us were too tall to fit comfortably. The thought of him in my bed, even alone, would've kept me awake for days.
“Thanks,” he said as he appeared beside me. “See you in the morning, then...Agent Melendez.”
I swallowed hard and managed to resist the urge to ask him to call me Karis. “Goodnight.” The word came out a little stiff, and my cheeks burned as I turned away.
“Thanks, by the way, for everything,” he said. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”
I dipped my head in acknowledgement and headed for my room. Part of me wanted to take a shower, but I was suddenly exhausted. That sort of tired that seeped into bones and muscles. I locked my bedroom door and stripped out of all my clothes, leaving them in a pile on my floor. Doing anything else seemed like too much effort.
I crawled under my covers and pressed my face against my pillow. All I wanted to do was sleep, to sink into that dark oblivion and not have to think about everything that'd happened in the past twenty-four hours. I didn't want to think about the man in the next room and how much I wished he was lying here next to me. We'd fallen asleep next to each other many times in the past, and I'd never felt as safe as I had when he was with me, when his arms were around me.
Despite everything he'd done, how far apart our lives now were, I still wanted the protection I knew he could give me. I wanted the life we should've had, and it killed me to know I'd never get it.
I sighed. Exhausted or not, it looked like sleep wasn't going to come easily tonight.
Chapter Eight
Bron
I lay on the couch after I heard her door close, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the last couple hours. She'd put a lot on the line, I knew, bringing me here. Hell, she'd risked a lot just by getting me a deal, having me assigned to her. I knew that if anyone at the FBI found out we knew each other, she could be in big trouble. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, but that hadn't stopped me from almost kissing her.
/> She was so much stronger than I was. I'd seen in her eyes that she'd wanted the kiss, but she'd been able to stop it. Part of me wanted to hate her for it, for rejecting me, but I knew she was right. We didn't belong together, not anymore. Whatever chance we'd had to be something more to each other had disappeared the moment we'd been separated.
In the dim light, I looked around at her tiny apartment and thought of how much more she deserved. She deserved a real home, with a family. Based on what I could see, she was focusing on her career more than her personal life at the moment, but she still deserved to have someone to support her. I saw no evidence that she had a serious boyfriend, and I'd even snooped a bit in the bathroom to satisfy my curiosity. No extra toothbrush. No man's razor or toiletries. And no self-respecting man would've used the lilac-scented body wash I found. Though I supposed I'd have to use it when I showered tomorrow. My stomach twisted at the thought. I'd always associated that particular scent with Karis, and now it would be everywhere.
It still caught me off-guard how much she affected me. After that first kiss, I'd tried to convince myself that all I needed was closure, that I was holding on to someone who wasn't real. The entire time in the interrogation room, I'd reminded myself that I didn't really know her, not the person she'd become.
Then we'd left, and I'd found myself almost pretending that this was real. I knew I wasn't imagining the attraction, but I also knew that we were too different now. We'd lost our chance.
It didn't make me want her any less though.
I sighed and tried to focus on something else.
The city outside hadn’t quite settled down for the night. The occasional siren went off as various emergency vehicles sped by, sending flashes of red and blue into the small room. Floorboards overhead creaked as someone walked from one room to the other. A couple a few doors down had a fight. A baby cried. A toilet flushed. All sounds that were familiar to those who lived in apartments with thin walls.
I, however, was used to fancier accommodations. I'd gone from living on the streets to the lap of luxury when Uaine found me. Even after I left him, I hadn't left behind his taste for the finer things in life.