Devil's Tango (Running with the Devil Book 1)

by Claire J Monroe

  Garage doors slid silently on tracks and into the side walls.

  His green eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “You are mine.”

  Bravado combined with a stubborn dense streak a mile wide made her hold his gaze. “I belong to no man.”

  Computer generated voice came over the speakers. “T minus five.”

  The car rumbled with gas powered life.

  Van kept his eyes on her, but released her hand to reach for the seatbelt. “You.”

  The programmed countdown continued, “Four…”

  “Are.”

  “…three…”

  He slammed the buckle home and it clicked into place. “Mine.”

  His words, the sound of the buckle slamming into place with a click, it all hit her with a rush of energy. A sense of finality. A sense of the impending end. Of anything but closure. Of a new beginning.

  “…two…”

  His grin was knowing, sure, and too damned arrogant to be good for her future sanity. “Always.”

  “…one…”

  “And forever.”

  He wasn’t asking her permission. He was telling her how it would be.

  From now until the end of time.

  Well, it sucked to be him because she wasn’t the same meek and malleable Maddie he’d married then divorced with no fuss and muss. She was Maddie 2.0. Smarter, harder, and damn tired of the shit games men played. She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his undying love and abandonment routine, but stopped.

  The first explosion had detonated inside the house.

  CHAPTER TWO

  To say this wasn’t exactly how he’d planned getting back into Maddie’s life was an understatement. Sure, he’d known she’d be pissed at him. What he’d done and how he’d walked away from her had been a shit move. One he had struggled weeks to come to grips with, but what could he have done? She’d needed protecting and he’d needed to protect her. By any means necessary. Period. End of story.

  But walking into the living room of their house and seeing her bent over in that fuck-me-now position, then rising up to deck him? Fucking priceless.

  At least it had been until the emotional impact of her punch had slithered past his too-stupid-to-live brain and delivered the truth. She wanted closure. She wanted to end it. Them. Him. She wanted out. His Maddie wanted out and to be free of him.

  Well, too bad. She was his and nothing would change that. Ever.

  He dropped his foot on the accelerator and the car tore out of the garage. Quick glance in the rearview and the garage blast doors were sliding back into place. “Hang on.”

  She reached back and grabbed Lily by the collar to keep her from sliding around. “We live to see another day and we are—”

  “Not over,” he ground out as he took a hard right onto the street. “Whiskey, sitrep.”

  In his ear, Whiskey spoke to him. “Team’s clear. House is up in a blaze of glory. Property values won’t be impacted. Much. Dell and Fox are moving to pick up your six.”

  “Survivors?”

  “None so far,” Whiskey said. “Bravo and I got cleanup.”

  “Negative.” Tango flexed his grip on the steering wheel. “I want whoever fucked with mine to know this shit won’t be tolerated.”

  “Roger that,” Whiskey said.

  “I’m not yours,” Maddie muttered beside him under her breath. “Haven’t been yours for five years. Not after you divorced me.”

  Tango drew in a steadying breath and turned down another street, moving to the intercept point for Fox and Dell to pick up his tail.

  “Mama Tango giving you hell again,” Whiskey asked in an amused voice in his ear.

  “Always and forever,” Tango replied through clenched teeth.

  “Can’t blame her. You did just waltz back in and blow up her life and house.”

  Tango growled under his breath. “Not helping.”

  “You better not be talking to me,” Maddie snarled.

  Tango glanced at her and tapped his ear. “Shut up and do your job, Whiskey.”

  Whiskey laughed in his ear. “Trying to. Adrenaline rush is a bitch. Doubt it’s even hit her yet that her whole life just went up in smoke. Have you checked her for injuries?”

  Shit. He hadn’t. He’d been so focused on getting them out harm’s way that it’d slipped his mind. “You have any injuries?”

  “What?” Maddie frowned and glanced down at herself. “No, I… does you breaking my heart count?”

  “Dammit, Maddie—”

  “Then no, Van, I have no injuries.”

  Tango huffed out a frustrated breath then relayed the info to Whiskey. “No injuries.”

  “Good,” Whiskey said. “I’ll check her over when we meetup at Charlie’s. Oh and Tango?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t push her too hard and expect her to go into shock and melt down before you get to Charlie’s.”

  “She’s good,” Tango reasserted.

  “Yeah, I’d like to believe that, but her life just changed dramatically, in the blink of an eye, and from what I got from Caliv, your girl does not handle change well and has been pushing her limits for a while. Not sleeping. Forgetting to eat. Working non-stop on pet projects. Stressed to the max and with a hair trigger temper.”

  Another turn and he eased up on the gas so Fox and Dell could catch up. “How long?”

  “How long has she been like this, how long have I known, or how long before I think she’ll melt down?”

  “All of the above.”

  “Since she’s been on her own, a while, and… around the time it hits her that the house is gone.”

  Before he could open his mouth and order Whiskey to tell him everything, there was an energy shift in the car as Maddie looked over her shoulder at the smoke rising on the horizon. “Shit. It hit.”

  “Excellent.” Whiskey sounded pleased as fuck. Yet another reason to beat his ass when this mission was settled. “She needs to get it out. Once she does, read her in. She needs to hear it. All of it.”

  What his second in command was asking of him was the impossible. Reading Maddie in on everything that’d happened in the five years they’d been apart? His reasons for walking out? His reasons for sending her divorce papers without a note to explain? His reason for… destroying her trust in him? Yeah, on paper that might sound and look like the right thing to do, but in reality it wasn’t.

  There were things in his life he couldn’t explain to her. Not because he didn’t want her to know, but because it was too dangerous.

  “Not happening,” Tango mumbled.

  “Non-negotiable. Your girl needs it. Give it to her, play target to her angst, and roll with it. She won’t kick you out of her bed once she hears it all. Trust me.”

  Tango couldn’t help it, he snorted his disbelief.

  “Fine,” Whiskey blurted out. “Don’t trust me? Then trust Caliv. He vetted your girl and she’s got the green light. So man the fuck up and read her in already. Whiskey out. Dumbass.”

  The line went silent and Tango glanced at Maddie. She’d twisted around in her seatbelt and was staring out the rear window, eyes wide, and dry eyed. No tears, no hysteria, no… nothing. He’d seen her like this a time or two. Hell, more than a time or two and he knew exactly what she was doing. Melting down internally. Submerging her shock. Compartmentalizing everything and suppressing her feelings.

  None of which was good for her.

  So yeah, while he had no intention of telling the love of his life that everything she knew about him and their relationship was based on lies, secrets, and misdirection, he would give her the one thing she desperately needed.

  A target to vent her frustration on.

  And somehow, someway in the middle of that if he could manage to get her to see that the only reason he broke her heart was to protect her from the cluster fuck of danger that was his life… well then, that’s all that really mattered now, wasn’t it?

  Maddie couldn’t take he
r eyes off the orange glow that used to be her house. Her home. Her sanctuary. The place that her and Van had picked to be their forever home. Their place in the burbs. The place where they’d planned to have family dinners, raise kids, and plant a vegetable garden. It was gone. Up in a puff of smoke. Poof. It was over. Gone. Done.

  Just like what’d happened to her marriage.

  She should really say something. Like a… eulogy. Maybe cry. Scream a little. Pitch a fit. Hit Van again. That sounded appealing, but what good would it do?

  Her house was gone and it hurt. A lot. So much so that she really didn’t want to talk about it. Or accept it. Honestly, she just wanted life to quit shitting on her parade. Her measly little Maddie parade that wasn’t so much a parade as it was a pathetic stumble through life from one pothole to another.

  Van touched her arm. “Hey, you okay?”

  Okay? No, she wasn’t okay. She was as far from okay as a woman could get when her ex storms into her life with a band of bad guys hot on his tail that ends up with her life exploding with a fiery in-boom that hopefully wouldn’t impact property values. “Did your team say if the boom impacted the neighbor’s houses?”

  “It didn’t. You did good, baby. Real good.”

  That was something. At least Mrs. Brown next door wouldn’t be badmouthing her too much across the neighborhood.

  “The house can be rebuilt. You and Lily are safe. That’s what’s important.”

  Unable to stop herself, she asked him in a quiet voice, “Are we, Van? Are we really safe?”

  He merged the car onto the highway, then looked in the rearview mirror. “You are now.”

  His words should have been a comfort. And yes, to some extent it was, but… honestly? She looked back through the rear window. The orange glow was fading into the distance. Pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to see anything of her life as it once was.

  Yep, life sucked and no amount of bitching, whining or complaining would bring her house back. So rather than cry like she probably should, she opted to execute a little ‘buck up buttercup’ dance and let a little righteous indignation get her back on track with the parade of potholes that was her life. Maddie turned back to face the front then dropped into her seat. “Where are we going?”

  Van kept his eyes on the road. “Rendezvous with the team at base, then to transport.” He hesitated then said. “Home.”

  “I don't have a home. My home has been blown up.” Oh God. She said it out loud. Faced reality. Maddie tried and failed to stop a bubble of hysterical laughter from slipping out. “I blew up my own home.”

  Van grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “Hey, don't freak out on me.”

  Maddie yanked out of his grasp. “I'm not freaking out. I'm...,” she trailed off struggling to answer. She couldn’t talk about the house. Not if she didn’t want to break down into an emotional ball of blubbery mess and… yeah. Time to change the subject. Time to fire up that righteous indignation machine. “Who were those people and what did they want?”

  His response was immediate. “Don't know and you.”

  She frowned. “Seriously? How can you not know and why in the world would someone want me?”

  Van remained silent.

  “How did you know to be there?”

  “Caliv.”

  He said it and didn’t sound happy about it at all. Good, he could join the club. Maddie reached down and dug into her bag for her go-phone, then muttered to herself, “Explains why he kept calling.”

  “What are you doing,” Van demanded.

  “Getting answers.” Phone found, she powered it up then dialed Caliv. He answered on the first ring. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Are you with Donovan?” Caliv demanded.

  “Yes,” Maddie said. “And I want to know why.”

  “Because I trust him to keep you safe. Is he with you right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put me on speaker,” Caliv ordered.

  God, save me from annoying, demanding men. “Fine.” She pressed a button. “You're on speaker.”

  “Thanks, love,” Caliv said. “Tango, follow protocol and rendezvous with your team at the safe house. I'm working on transport to a secure location.”

  “What the fuck is going on, Caliv,” Van demanded. “Why is a group of Russians after Maddie?”

  “Long story,” Caliv hedged. “Keep her safe for me and I'll be in touch with transport info.” Click. The line went dead.

  “Keep her safe for me,” Van mocked under his breath. “Tell me you did not get with that smarmy British bastard.”

  Maddie pulled back, incredulous. After everything he’d put her thought, he was jealous? Seriously? He should have thought about that before he divorced her for whatever imaginary made up reason he did and never shared with her. Righteous indignation in full throttle, she fired back, “That smarmy Brit was there for me when you dumped my ass and left. And he'll continue to be there for me long after you leave.”

  “The hell he will,” Van growled. “I didn't dump you. I cut myself out of your life to protect you.”

  She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh, that's a good one. Sorry, babe, about the whole walking out and never coming back, but I did it to protect you. From me. The cowardly idiot who couldn't man up to his commitments.”

  Van opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn't done.

  “I've had five years to get over your stupidity and one save the girl routine is NOT going to make up for all the shit you put me through.”

  “Never thought it would.”

  “Good, because it won't.” She huffed out a breath, folded her arms over her chest, and glared daggers at him. There. That should shut him up and get him off that forever and always crap he’d tried earlier. It wasn’t gonna happen. No way. No how. They were done. Over. Far as she was concerned the only reason she’d let him live this long was to keep her from whatever bad guys were chasing them and to get closure. Nothing else. Nothing more.

  Tense silence reigned supreme between them as he slowed for a stop light. Once stopped, he turned and met her dagger gaze. “But I will tell you I'm sorry. For everything and it WAS to protect you. From me and everything I am.”

  She snorted at that and shook her head. She wasn’t buying it. Not now. Not after five years of nothing. “Shut up and drive. Before I give in to the urge to punch you. Again.”

  “I'll stand still and let you, if it makes you feel better.” He smirked. “I'll even take my shirt off and close my eyes while you do it.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” she breathed. “You do NOT get to flirt with me. Not you. Anyone but you.”

  “Would have been more convincing had I not noticed one very important detail.” Lightning fast he grabbed her left hand. “My ring. Your finger. And not a damn picture of the smarmy Brit in our house.”

  She tried and failed to yank her hand away. “My house, my exploded to smithereens house, and this ring means nothing.”

  He smoothed his thumb over her ring finger. “Not nothing. Something.”

  There had to be something wrong with her because Van stroking her finger sent tingles up her arm, down her spine, and to a place that hadn’t seen any action in what felt like forever. “Absolutely. Nothing.”

  He tugged hard and she fell towards him. Before she could stop it, they were nose to nose and both breathing heavily. When he spoke, his voice was sinfully low, lethal, and determined as hell to make his point. “What God hath put together, let no man tear asunder. Divorce, no divorce, you wear my mark, my rings. You. Are. Mine.”

  She started to deny his claim, but he stopped her with a hard, fast kiss. A claiming kiss that startled her and had her clinging to him for more. A kiss that seared her soul and dragged her kicking and screaming out in the open. To a place of vulnerability and hurt and… the truth.

  He tore his lips from hers, pressed his forehead to hers, and then pulled her hand to his chest. Underneath his shirt, she felt his dog tags and the telltale circle that m
eant he had his wedding ring on the chain, too. “Leaving you was the fucking hardest thing I ever had to do, but it was necessary. To protect you.”

  She clenched her eyes shut. His voice, his scent, his… everything was drawing up the pain. Into her throat. Constricting her throat with unshed tears. “Don’t. Do. This. Please, Van. Not. Now.”

  “Have to.” He huffed out a harsh breath and she could have sworn she felt his pain. His angst. His determination to make her feel the harsh reality that was their ill-fated relationship. “Need you to understand.”

  Maddie struggled to keep her emotions in check, but everything was bubbling to the surface and she lurched back from him, from his touch, from his essence, from his personal space, from him. She ripped her hand from his, desperately needing to stop the flood of emotions from overwhelming her. To stop him from overwhelming her and breaking her any more than he already had.

  The movement left her cold and empty of everything, but bitterness. And a shitload of repressed anger. “Understand what,” she demanded. “That I’m a failure? That me wearing your rings after you left and divorced me without any rational explanation proves just how pathetic I am? Fine. Message received. You’re right. I’m yours. Whatever.” She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself tight, and stared out the side window. “The light is green and this conversation is over. So do us both a favor, shut up and drive.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Maddie’s words knocked him on his ass. Not only that, but the pent up rage packed in her rant? Holy hell, that shit had been potent. Full of piss, vinegar, and daggers aimed directly at him. And they’d hit. Hard. Tango blinked one. Twice. Didn’t help. He couldn’t fathom why she called herself a failure. In his mind, she was as far away from being a failure as she could be.

  Hell, she’d picked up after he’d left. She had moved on. He knew she had because the smarmy Brit had taken extreme pleasure informing him about being invited to Maddie’s ‘Bonfire & Roast Marshmallows over Van’s Clothes’ party. His girl didn’t take any shit. She hadn’t contested the divorce like he’d hoped. No, his strong, kick ass, Brainiac girl had taken it on the chin, signed on the dotted line then booted his absent ass to the curb. No muss. No fuss. And no fucking contesting the shit move divorce like he’d hoped.