Shay shifted on the stool uneasily. “None of us could have predicted that, for God’s sake! A single gunshot, and then the house suddenly on fire…what were the chances? I thought Eric was going to be hauled into the police station and slapped on the wrist, as usual. He was up for it; he’d been in trouble a few times by that point.” He stopped abruptly, appalled to hear his voice shaking.
Why was he still trying to justify it to her, after all this time?
“If you want to keep blaming me, then I can’t stop you,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “You are obviously still angry with me, and what can I say? I can’t go back in time and change any of it! I’ve already apologised. What else do you want from me?”
Her eyes glittered. “I don’t want anything from you, Shay,” she replied. “I thought that I’d never see you again.” She took a deep breath. “And yes, you are right. I’m still angry. I’ve carried the anger all this time, and seeing you again has made it rear its ugly head. I want answers, but I know that you can’t give them to me.”
“I wish I could,” he said. “I wish I had the answers.”
“Why was there a gunshot?” she whispered. “Who fired at who? Eric didn’t die from a gunshot wound. There was nothing to indicate he had been shot, at all. Did he fire at the police?”
Shay took a deep breath. “Possibly,” he said. “I never saw him with a gun, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. Eric changed, in those last few months. So much that I barely recognised him.”
Tess sighed. “He was the quintessential bad boy,” she said, a little bitterly. “I had stars in my eyes. The old story. The silly girl who falls in love with the rebel without a cause, thinking she will be the one to tame him. But that would never have happened, would it?”
Shay stared at her, his heart thumping wildly. Was she really wanting an answer from him? And even hearing her speak of her love for Eric was torture, even after all this time. The thread of bitterness in her voice. Was she still in love with him? He couldn’t bear it. Of everything in this incredibly messy situation that had brought them back into each other’s lives, that was the one thing it seemed that he couldn’t deal with.
He abruptly stood up. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
He walked away quickly, pretending not to see the surprise in her eyes. Tess had her own issues to deal with; did she even want to see how it still affected him? Did she want to know? It was just a huge circle, an emotional carousel, that kept spinning around and around with no exit in sight.
***
Tess watched Shay walk away. The look of pure pain in his eyes before he had suddenly claimed he needed the bathroom had startled her so badly that her hand was shaking as she picked up her wine glass, staring at it uncomprehendingly. It was empty. She put it down on the counter so abruptly it was a wonder it didn’t break.
“Another?” The bartender was there, looking at her expectantly.
She opened her mouth to say yes then closed it again. She didn’t need another glass of wine. Her head was already spinning a little from the alcohol, and the way the conversation had veered into dangerous territory hadn’t helped. She couldn’t handle this. She had thought that she could, but it was hurtling away from her.
She shook her head at the bartender. He drifted away. Suddenly, the background music and the glare of the lights hanging low over the bar started grating on her.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Shay would be back any second, but she didn’t think that she could sit here and casually chat to him anymore. It was still too raw. And it seemed that he didn’t have any information about their mutual employer; or if he did, he wasn’t about to share it with her. This was a dead end, in more ways than one.
She got up, grabbing her bag. A shaft of pain tore through her. The irony of it was that she had been kind of enjoying herself at the start. When they had first been talking about motorbikes, and not this damn job, and then that night. They had simply been a man and a woman at a bar, sharing a drink. She could see what he might have been, if he hadn’t chosen a life of crime, that is. A damn attractive man, charming, and good company. A man that she could have admitted she found very, very interesting.
But it wasn’t that simple, was it?
She walked quickly out of the bar, surprised to see that it was still light, although barely. Where could she go? She had been expecting to spend a bit more time with him tonight and had made no other plans. She should head home, of course. But the thought of sitting by herself in that little flat that the Bureau had leased on her behalf suddenly depressed her thoroughly.
She lived in a flat that wasn’t her own, surrounded by furniture that wasn’t hers. She worked at a job in a studio, but it wasn’t really her job. Tess suddenly felt confused, as if her whole life was just an act on a stage. Who was Tess Nolan, deep down? Had she ever known?
And the only man that had interested her—truly interested her—in months, if not years, was a fraud, as well. A criminal. And a coward who had deserted her when she had needed him. The attraction that she felt for him was an illusion, a play act, like everything else in her life.
Tess sighed impatiently. What was she going to do for the rest of the night? Suddenly it seemed imperative to do something. Anything but get on that subway and head to that lonely flat, where she would be alone with her thoughts.
The Grand Park was just across the road. She could see people walking through it. Lovers walked hand in hand, taking in the early evening together. Joggers sped by in their active wear and runners. People walked dogs on leashes, smiling indulgently to each other when the dogs stopped each other and sniffed, as if saying hello. She could see a juggler in the distance, with a hat in front of him for coins, surrounded by a small group of people. He finished an act, and they all applauded softly, before drifting off in all directions. The beat of the city.
That’s where she would go. It was as good a place as any.
Tess crossed the road, weaving in amongst the traffic. As soon as she hit the nearest path in the park, she felt calmer. Trees swayed softly in the air, littering the grass with their brown and yellow leaves. Fall. The season of endings, in every way imaginable.
She didn’t look back across the road. She knew that Shay would have returned by now, astonished that she had abruptly got up and left him. She had been the one who had called him, after all. And now she had run away like a frightened dog with its tail between its legs.
Tess walked swiftly, her head lowered. She had called him a coward, but she was one, as well. She was a strong, independent woman; an operative for the FBI, no less. A smart woman, who had her life together. But when it came to what had happened all those years ago, she wanted to run like any scared little girl. Just like she had run that night, leaving Eric to his fate.
Stop it, she told herself fiercely. You were only sixteen. What else could you have done? It was all too much for you. If Eric was here, he wouldn’t blame you. Why can’t you stop blaming yourself? And why can’t you stop blaming Shay?
But it didn’t make any difference. For the thousandth time, she felt the tears welling up, and her fists clenching. Guilt invaded her body. It was so acidic and corrosive that she wouldn’t have been surprised to look down and see that her feet were starting to melt into the pavement in a cloud of smoke. Like the wicked witch of the west, she thought, grimly.
Chapter Nine
She kept walking until she couldn’t walk anymore. Twilight descended over the park, and the quaint street lamps suddenly turned on. She found a park bench and sat down, staring up at one.
Life had jumped in another strange direction, she thought. She could barely keep up with its twists and turns. But then, it had always been like that for her…
Tess had been twenty-one by the time she had graduated with her arts degree. A fine piece of paper that told the world that she was a fine artist. She had been offered two jobs in design studios, but suddenly she didn’t know what she wanted to do. So, she had tra
velled. She had packed up her student dorm room and caught the first plane out.
Her parents were confused. Why would she not take either of the very fine jobs she had been offered? What was she going to do with herself? But Tess hadn’t asked any of those questions as she hit the road. She had smiled at her parents and reassured them that all was good. She just needed to think things through.
She had backpacked through Europe, hanging out in hostels on a strict budget. Sometimes she waitressed to get by. Sometimes she even felt the itch to draw and paint. She carried a sketch book with her. But it was in Florence, where she was surrounded by timeless art, that she had realised that she would never be great. That she would never be a master, like Da Vinci and Michelangelo. Why bother trying when you knew you could never be the best?
One day, she had been sketching the Ponte Vecchio, a medieval stone bridge, when a woman had approached, admiring her work. Tess had looked at her and known. She had thanked the woman, then asked her if she would like it. The woman was surprised and offered her money. But Tess had given her the whole sketch book for free, and then walked away, feeling so light and unencumbered it was as if she was floating on air. She didn’t buy another one. That part of her life was over.
It was on the coast of Spain that she knew what she wanted to do. Sun and sea and sangria. Endless beautiful days that seemed to stretch out forever. But all that she could think about was that night, and how Eric had died. For nothing.
She wanted to do some good in the world. She wanted to catch the bad guys. She felt fired up with new purpose. Art was a part of her past, and this was her future.
She caught a plane back home. She applied to become a cop. She was accepted and walked the beat for a few years. But it still wasn’t enough. The guilt still gnawed away at her. She needed to do more.
It had been her boss at her last precinct who had suggested she apply for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He had told her that she had what it took. She had applied, and three times she was knocked back. But Tess was persistent, and eventually they had accepted her.
It had been the best moment of her life.
The training had been tough. So tough she had almost quit once. But then she would see Eric, standing in that old abandoned house, and she knew she had to keep on. For his sake.
She had been finishing some exercises one night at the training centre when she had been called to a room. Two investigators stood there, in the requisite dark suits and ties. An older man with grey hair, who had turned out to be the head of their division. Mr. Walker. And a slightly younger one, whose hair was still threaded with grey. Paul Hopkins, a lead investigator on an art forgery case.
They got straight to the point. They knew that she hadn’t finished her training yet, but she was almost there, and her instructors had sung her praises. She would graduate with honours. They knew she was a fine agent in the making.
Tess had listened to them talk, astounded at what they were saying. They wanted her to leave the training centre and work on a case with them? A live case? She had trembled with apprehension, especially when they had outlined what she would be required to do.
They wanted her to pose as an art forger, to get inside information about who was running the operation. They had been investigating for some time, but were no closer to finding out. At the last moment, the person or persons would elude them. And they knew that she had a background in art, with an impeccable ability to copy.
She was perfect for this job. The agent they needed to infiltrate the organisation and blow it up once and for all. Would she accept it?
Tess had been overwhelmed but accepted with alacrity. This was her chance. Her first case, and she had to do well at it. They had taken her out of the training centre immediately, and for a few weeks she had thrown herself into drawing and painting. Practising. Getting her skills up to date. She was a bit rusty, after all. She hadn’t done any art since her European trip. She had not even thought about doing any.
They had arranged for her interview with the organisation, and she had passed with flying colours. She was a bonafide artist, under the pump to copy a work of art. A job that she had never dreamt of in a million years.
But there had been a catch. She had to return to the city of Covenester; a place that she had never wanted to come back to. Ever. The Bureau would pay for a furnished flat for her while she worked the case, pretending to be an art forger. It had been too late to back out once she realised the city she would be working in was the same one where she had grown up.
A city that was shrouded in memories. Memories she had spent her whole life trying to escape from.
She became Teresa Daly, art forger. The alias had been carefully discussed. Paul Hopkins had told her to pick a name that she could, if push came to shove, respond to automatically if someone called it quickly. A name that she wouldn’t just ignore, thus raising doubts about who she was. She had chosen Teresa because it actually was her name—she had always been called Tess from when she was a little girl, but it was Teresa on her birth certificate. And Daly was her mother’s maiden name, so she was familiar with that one, too.
And now here she was, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, and living a life that wasn’t hers. She had been handling that. But now one of the ghosts from her past had reared up, and she didn’t know what to do anymore.
Shay Sullivan. A man with secrets of his own. An unbelievably attractive man who made her heart thump whenever she saw him. A man who had betrayed her, once upon a time.
She needed to get out of this city. It had never been good. The sooner that this case was wrapped up, and she could leave it, the better.
***
Tess stared at the street lamp, lost in memories. That European vacation, when she had changed the direction of her life so drastically, seemed like a thousand years ago. And she was a thousand years older, so broken and battered by life she felt that she could barely raise a hand.
“Tess.”
She looked up, startled. It was Shay, standing there, staring at her. How had he known where she had gone? Stupid question. He was an experienced stalker, wasn’t he? She should have known that he would tail her as soon as she left that bar.
“You have to stop doing this,” she said. “There are laws against it, you know.”
He sat down next to her on the park bench and didn’t answer for a while. He simply stared up at the street lamp, as if he had known that she had been contemplating it, too.
“Why did you leave?” He turned his head to look at her.
Tess shrugged. “It seemed to be getting a bit much,” she replied. “All of it. I don’t even know why I suggested meeting you. There’s too much water under the bridge between us, Shay, and I don’t know how to change that.”
He nodded, gazing at her. “Tess…you have to know that I didn’t mean to run off on you that night.” He took a deep breath. “If I could go back in time and change it, I would. But regardless of what happened, Eric is still dead. I think that we both need to move on.”
She smiled. “I know that,” she said. “It’s seeing you that has brought it all back. That’s why it’s probably a good idea to not see each other again.”
“Is it?” He stared at her intently. “You are honestly telling me that you have let it all go, and it’s only seeing me that has brought it back up for you?” He stared at the autumn trees around them. “You are telling me that you haven’t thought about it at this time of year? Because I know it’s been playing on my mind, even before I saw you.”
Tess stifled a sob. “Yeah, you are right. Fall always brings it back. I was thinking about it just the other night.” She turned to him. “I’m sorry, Shay. Sorry for dumping it all on you. The truth is, it’s because I feel guilty myself. You’ve just appeared and it’s been easy to make you the scapegoat.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, I’ve always made you the scapegoat.”
They stared at each other. The air between them was suddenly so charged with tension he co
uld almost see the positive ions floating between them. Shay could see her leaning towards him, almost against her will, just like he was leaning towards her. Like they were both magnets, inexplicably drawing towards each other. He could barely breathe as he inhaled the scent of her perfume.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open.
“Oh, no,” she muttered, under her breath. Shay quickly turned to see what she was looking at.
A woman walking along the path was battling with a man, who was trying to reef her bag off her shoulder. They struggled for a few moments, before the man wrested it off her and started running in the opposite direction. The woman fell to the ground, screaming.
Before he could even think, Tess was on her feet. She sprinted after the man. Shay watched with astonished eyes as she kicked him from behind, sending him sprawling across the grass. Before the man could react, she was on him, and had his arms pinioned behind his back. The man twisted and turned, trying to free himself, but to no avail.
Tess carefully sat on him, and casually took out her cell phone. “Police? Yes. I have made a citizen’s arrest. A mugger in Grand Park.” She coolly gave the coordinates of where they were, then hung up. She stared over at Shay.
“A little help here would be appreciated,” she called.
Shay gaped at her. Then he shook his head and ran over to them both. He could hear them both panting wildly.
“You keep securing him,” she said. “I need to see to the victim.”
Shay took over, pinioning the man to the ground. He watched as Tess walked over to the shaken woman, still sitting on the ground, and crouched down. She gently held out a hand, and pulled the woman to her feet. Then she walked her over to the park bench they had been sitting on, talking softly. He watched her take off her coat and gently place it around the woman’s shoulders.
He felt his mind whirling. What had just happened? It had been so quick he had barely had time to react. And yet Tess had flown to the woman’s rescue, and secured the mugger, before he had even registered what was going on.
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