I hold my place, watching as he moves to her open office door. He stands there, practically drinking her in with his gaze. She has no clue she’s being observed.
Finally, he says, “Corinne?”
As if he really can’t believe it’s her, despite the fact there’s a brass nameplate next to her door.
It’s a subtle movement, but I can see her actually stiffen at the sound of Clay’s voice, then her head slowly rises as she takes him in.
Clearly, they know each other, but for the longest time, they just stare. It’s obvious they have history. By the tense lines in both their bodies, it’s clear it’s not the good kind.
Corinne rises slowly from her chair, a smile starting to curl incrementally across her face. “Clay?”
“It really is you,” he says quietly, again almost disbelieving.
“Been a long time,” she says as she comes to stand before him.
“Nine years,” he murmurs.
Again, another long moment where they just stare at each other, and I wonder what’s between them. Were they lovers? Coworkers? Enemies?
Corinne provides a bit of an answer when she moves into him, putting her arms around his shoulders and drawing him in for a warm hug. “I’m so glad to see you again.”
They must have been friends at the very least, as I can see the fond look on her face over his shoulder as a serene smile plays at her lips.
My powers of observation are sharp, though, and I note that Clay barely gives her a squeeze in return, hands at her waist, before he draws back. Scraping his hands through his hair, he mutters, “Yeah… good to see you too.”
She can sense his discomfort, but she doesn’t give up. Sweeping a hand toward her office, she asks, “Want to come in? Have a cup of coffee and catch up?”
Taking a step back, he shakes his head and looks at his watch. “Actually… I’ve got a meeting I need to get to.”
“Oh,” she replies, clearly disappointed. “Maybe some other time?”
“Yeah… sure,” he mutters, and I know she can hear he has no intention of taking her up on that invitation.
Clay turns, offering me an apologetic wince. “I’m sorry, Cage. Maybe I’ll take that tour another day.”
“Anytime, man,” I reply, giving him a nod.
Clay moves to the elevator, which is the only way down to the first floor from this one, and Corinne just watches in silence, disappointment making her frown.
When he’s gone, I cock an eyebrow at Corinne and ask, “You two know each other, huh?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs sadly, then pivots back into her office. She shuts the glass door behind her, making it clear she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
CHAPTER 26
Cage
Unless I was on an active mission with the Navy SEALS, I’ve never missed a Christmas with my family since the time I left home. It may be that I only had leave for two days and I’d fly in, celebrate, and fly back out again. My parents learned having a son in the military meant they couldn’t always be the priority, and so they were happy with whatever bits of time they could get with me.
Of course, I would try to visit at other times as well, but that could be difficult, depending on where I was stationed at the time.
Since coming to Jameson, it’s been a bit easier because while we do dangerous work, we also handle a lot of other types of security issues that aren’t pressing and dangerous. As such, we’ve generally had time off at Christmas, something Kynan believes is important for his employees.
I should be in my parents’ North Carolina house right now, settled into the guest room, and preparing for Mom’s special hash-brown breakfast bake in the morning. It’s a tradition. After, we pass out presents and sit around in pajamas for most of the day. It’s definitely not an image a tough former Navy SEAL and security agent projects, but within the safety of my family’s home, I can relax and just be their kid.
But it’s Christmas Eve, and I’m not in North Carolina with my family. Instead, I’m bundled up in a parka, hat, gloves, and scarf, and I’m waiting outside of St. Francis Catholic Church in Hazelwood, where midnight mass is set to start soon.
I’m propped against the trunk of a pine tree, watching as all the parishioners walk from the parking lot into the church. It’s been snowing on and off for two days now. The ground is carpeted with a thick blanket of fluffy snow, but the roads and parking lot have been plowed. About ten minutes before the service starts, I see her.
Walking arm in arm with Laney, coats pulled tight and knit caps on their heads as Laney laughs at something Jaime says. Her parents follow behind, holding hands, and Brian brings up their rear.
It’s been three days since I sat at the Dolans’ dinner table. Three days since I’ve seen Jaime. I’ve tried every day to reach out to her, to set up a time we can talk, but she keeps putting me off. At first, she ignored me, then she answered via text and said, “I’m just not ready.”
I respected that answer for a full twenty-four hours before I said, “Fuck it.” She might not be ready, but I am.
So it was with regret I had to call my mother and tell her I wasn’t coming home for Christmas. I didn’t even dare try to come up with a lie to explain my absence. I was done lying to my loved ones.
Yeah… I told my mom the whole sordid story of falling in love with a woman that started on a lie, and I couldn’t figure out how to correct it until it was too late.
My mother—Gina Murdock—can be as sweet as the southern tea she brews or as viperous as a copperhead when she’s angry. I got the range of emotions from her, but, in the end, she only wants me to be happy, so she understood my absence. I had to promise, however, to bring Jaime home for a visit as soon as was feasibly possible. If I can get her to forgive me tonight, maybe we can take a weekend trip to North Carolina.
The bell in the church tolls midnight as the last few stragglers rush inside. I start walking that way, leaving deep footprints in the snow. I enter into the warm vestibule and scan the interior of the church, easily locating Jaime and her family four rows back from the front.
I choose a seat in the very last row, then take off my coat. I’ve never been to a Catholic mass before, much less a church service at midnight, and I want to see what’s so magical about this tradition for the Dolan family.
And then after… well, Jaime and I are going to talk.
♦
I stand off to the side of the church steps, having walked out just before the priest did. It’s still snowing, and I’m freezing my ass off. The priest stands under the overhang, giving peaceful blessings to each person who walks past him. After what seems like forever, I see Jaime’s parents. They shake hands with the priest, followed by Brian, then Jaime and Laney.
When they start down the steps, again arm in arm, I make my move and walk their way. Jaime sees me coming from her peripheral vision. I can tell when her gaze lands on me that she’s not surprised to see me there.
“Can we talk?” I ask.
“It’s not a good time,” she replies, glancing at her parents, who are still walking toward the parking lot, oblivious I’ve stopped their daughter.
“It’s Christmas, Jaime,” I say softly, hoping to appeal to whatever joyful spirit she may have been filled with during, what I admit, was a beautiful experience watching the midnight Mass. “I’m just asking for a bit of time to talk.”
She nibbles on her lip in dismay, the fat flakes of snow covering her knit cap and standing bright against the fiery locks of hair that hang over her shoulders. She looks at Laney, then toward the parking lot, then back to Laney. “I need ten minutes.”
“Of course,” Laney says, then gives me a short glance. I’m surprised when she says, “Merry Christmas, Cage.”
I nod at her. “Merry Christmas.”
As Laney heads to her parents’ car, I take Jaime’s hand and lead her away from the church. It’s a beautiful setting, the church all lit up and casting a glow over us. It might be the type of moment
a man uses to tell a woman he loves her or even proposes to her, but those moments are already lost to us.
She tugs her hand away from mine, crosses her arms over her chest, and waits for me to say something. “Jaime… I am so sorry I lied to you about my job. I am begging you to forgive me, so we can move on—”
“Hold up just a minute,” she says, her hand coming up and her gloved palm facing me. “It’s more than just lying about your job, Cage.”
“Yeah… I get that.” I hope my admission softens her a bit.
“Do you know what rook means?” she asks.
Frowning, I give it a shot. “It’s a chess piece, right?”
“It can be, but rook means to defraud or deceive someone. You rooked me, right after my brother did, and that came right after the last guy I was dating did, too. You might get that it’s about just a little bit more to me than just lying about a job.”
“I understand—”
“No, I don’t think you do,” she snaps, taking a step toward me but lowering her voice. It doesn’t diminish the power of her words, though. “It was far worse when you did it, Cage, because you actually swindled my heart.”
I wince because that’s a fucking slap of truth in the face. But still, I have to believe that what we have is enough to overcome this. “Jaime… I’m really sorry. I made poor choices. If you can forgive me, I know we can make this work between us. I know you’re angry—”
“I’m not angry anymore,” she says softly. For a moment, I have hope. But her eyes get shiny with tears, and her voice is morose. “I’m sad because you didn’t trust me enough with the truth. It was such a harmless lie, too, but the longer you let it go on, the bigger it got. And yet, you should have trusted in me and my feelings. You should have given me the benefit of the doubt that I would forgive the lie. But, you let it go on for weeks, and you led me right to the altar to get married without telling me the truth, and that’s not something I’m sure I can forgive.”
“You don’t think that’s a bit harsh?” I ask. Because while I understand and agree with everything she has said, shouldn’t we have enough love and care between us that forgiveness should at least be an option on the table?
“How do I trust you?” she asks. “I don’t even know you.”
“You can let me earn it back,” I suggest, and I know it’s a good option because that gives her pause. She looks back at the church, weighing that in her mind. In her moment of indecisiveness, I push a little more. “Do you still love me?”
Her head whips back toward me, red hair flying and scattering the snowflakes around her. “I love what I thought you were.”
“We’re talking about the difference between me being a car salesman and a security agent,” I point out.
It’s the wrong thing to say, and I realize it the moment the words are out of my mouth. She glares at me. “It’s the difference between being an honest man and being a liar.”
She’s not wrong about that. Again, I think she’s still more angry than hurt, and maybe time will lessen that pain for her.
I nod in understanding, bringing my hand up to wrap around the back of her neck as I step in close. “I get that. I’m hoping you’ll forgive me at some point. I am not giving up on us, Jaime.”
She doesn’t try to pull away, but she doesn’t say anything either. Just gazes up at me with mistrust and confusion.
“I want for us to be able to talk again,” I suggest. “Maybe you’ll even let me explain a bit more about why I did what I did.”
Her eyes dart left, and she stares at the church again. I reach into my coat pocket, then pull out the small gift I’ve been carrying. It’s wrapped in red foil paper with a tiny silver bow. It’s small, square, and clearly a ring box. It had not failed my notice that she was not wearing her wedding band Sunday night at dinner, although I have not taken mine off.
“I got you a Christmas present,” I say, and she turns back to look at the gift in my hand.
She warily stares at it before lifting her gaze to mine before returning it to the box. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not what you think it is,” I assure her, because I know exactly why she’s reticent. I bet she thinks it’s a new wedding band or perhaps a large diamond I hadn’t had the chance to get her but had fully intended to, even though we did everything ass-backward.
I extend my arm enough that I push the gift right into her hands, and she has no choice but to accept it.
She holds the box carefully, almost as if she’s afraid it’s a bomb that might explode. When she lifts her face back up, she says, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I assure her. “I’m not sure I deserve anything anyway.”
A flash of empathy fills her eyes before she quickly extinguishes it.
I nod down at the box. “Open it or don’t. It’s yours to do with as you wish. Just promise me you’ll keep it if you can’t look at it now because maybe one day you’ll be in a different place. At least I hope to God that’s what’s going to happen.”
Jaime’s gaze goes down to the box, then once again comes up to meet mine. She merely nods her agreement that she’ll keep it.
Pointing with her thumb over her shoulder, she says, “I need to get going.”
“Of course,” I reply. Before she can think to step away or stop me, I lean down and brush my lips across her cheek. “I love you, Jaime. Merry Christmas.”
I don’t expect her to say anything back, so I immediately turn on my heel and start walking across the grounds to the road where I’d parallel parked my car. All I can hope for tonight is that I’ve given her a bit of pause, and she’ll think about giving me another shot.
CHAPTER 27
Jaime
Gently, I use my feather duster to swipe all the decorations and books on my living room shelves. I run it over the corner lamp, the end tables, and the coffee table. I start to move toward the TV stand, but the red foil-wrapped gift catches my eye. I’d set it there when I came home on Christmas day, having chosen to sleep at my parents’ house on Christmas Eve after Mass.
I didn’t put it under my small Christmas tree I set up on the sideboard that takes up one wall of my tiny apartment. One day, I’d love to have a place big enough for a full-sized tree, but, for now, my little two-foot one brings me just as much Christmas cheer.
And yet, I didn’t put Cage’s gift there. I mean, there’s plenty of room as all the other presents I had stacked there were for my family, and we opened those Christmas day.
Maybe it’s because I feel slightly guilty I didn’t get him anything. It never crossed my mind.
Most likely, I didn’t put it under the tree because the shape and size of that box—regardless of the red foil—say it isn’t exactly a Christmas present.
It’s a ring, right?
A real wedding band, not like the cheap silver ones we bought in the twenty-four-hour wedding chapel where we got married.
A twinge of pain hits me dead center, something that happens every time I remember I’m married to a man I’m not sure I can stay married to. I’m smart enough to realize that twinge is the potential pain of loss, meaning if I ultimately decide I just can’t move forward with him, I’m going to suffer. Because even though I’m angry, hurt, disappointed, and mistrustful of him now, I also still very much love him.
It’s an awful situation to be in.
Bypassing the sideboard and ignoring the gift, I move into the kitchen, putting my small feather duster in the tiny supply closet/pantry. Eyeballing the kitchen, I look for something else to do to keep busy. I have the rest of this week off for Christmas break, and I’m in strict avoidance mode. I’ve cleaned the apartment top to bottom—twice now in the last two days—and I’ve been putting Cage off again.
Since our conversation on Christmas Eve two nights ago, he’s respectfully texted each morning, asking if we can set up another time to talk. Each time, I’ve put him off, telling him that I was not in the right frame
of mind just yet.
That was vague enough to hold him off. Truth be told, though, I know exactly why I’m putting him off. It’s because I think, deep in my heart, I understand and accept he’s never had any ill intent toward me, that he got caught up in something stupid that snowballed, then that whole kidnapping thing sort of got my emotions out of whack. What still causes me some trepidation about this, though, is that if I genuinely accept that, then I should give him another shot.
I should give this marriage a shot.
But there’s that small chance I’m wrong. There’s a risk that maybe Cage can’t be trusted, and if that turns out to be true, I’ll end up being in a marriage that’s unworkable. I’ll end up getting way more hurt down the road if he does something else to betray my trust.
“Shit,” I mutter, frustrated I can’t seem to reason my way out of this untenable position. And I’m honest enough to admit I keep putting Cage off because I know damn well he’ll talk me into giving us a shot.
There’s a knock on my door, and it startles me enough to make me jump. I move that way, assuming it’s Brian or Laney. I know it can’t be Cage because he’s given me space, and I’ve denied him so far for another time to sit down to talk.
To be sure, though, I look through the peephole. I’m shocked to see it’s a blonde woman. At first, I have no clue who she is, then vague recognition settles.
Then it clicks.
It’s Cage’s friend Anna, who I met about a month ago for drinks. Funny, he hasn’t really mentioned her or his other friend, Malik, since then, so I’m a bit confused as to why she’s outside my apartment door.
Did Cage send her here?
But that doesn’t make sense. He never talked about her after that meeting, so I didn’t think they were all that close.
Hesitantly, I undo the locks and swing the door open.
Code Name: Rook Page 18