“That seems like an invitation to heart disease.” And she was back to shifting around. She crossed and uncrossed her arms before she grabbed for her napkin again.
He could not stop watching her. Energy buzzed off her. He found the mix of tough talk and nervous fidgeting unexpectedly hot. “You’d think, but no.”
“I’m going to pretend you’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
She cleared her throat. “Shauna.”
They could circle back to food because she had his attention now. He refused to joke about this topic. “Your sister.”
“She’s three years older.”
He noticed she didn’t use the past tense. Shauna died ten years ago and Cate still saw her as an “is.” For Damon, that meant treading carefully. “And you are . . . ?”
“Twenty-nine.”
He knew that answer before she said it, but thought keeping her to facts might help her emotionally wade through the next part. He’d helped Wren with other cases and this piece—dealing with the grief—never got easier. Damon had a load of grief and guilt of his own piled on top of hers, so he got it.
He nodded to her. “Go ahead.”
“The questions you ask don’t seem that pertinent.”
“I’m going to be honest with you.” He started to lean forward when the waiter came by and dropped off their food. The smell of grilled hamburger filled his senses as he reached for his folded napkin and threw it across his lap.
She didn’t move. “That would be a good way to start.”
“Wren already gave me a file he had on you. The man is an expert at collecting information and then making Garrett put it together in a nice big, easy-to-understand breakdown of what happened and when.”
For a few seconds she sat there, quiet, as her gaze moved over his face, studying him. “Then why are we here doing the get-to-know-you thing?”
“First, I’m hungry. That happens a lot. The need-to-eat thing. So, you’ll need to get used to it.” He popped a french fry in his mouth.
“You aren’t . . . I mean, you look . . .”
Interesting. “I’m pretty excited to hear how you finish that sentence.”
She waved a hand in front of her. “You’re fit.”
“Oh, really?”
“Don’t get excited. That was an objectively factual statement.”
“Objectively factual?” He didn’t even know how to decipher that. If she found him sexy she should absolutely say so because damn was that a mutual feeling.
“You know what I mean.”
Rather than risk saying the wrong thing and wearing her salad, he switched back to the food. That seemed like a safe topic. “I have low blood sugar and get cranky when I don’t eat.”
“So, you eat burgers all the time.”
“I like pleasure.”
She bit her top lip as if she were fighting off a smile. “You sound like you’re five.”
“And protein.” All this talk about food and seeing the burger right there, all he wanted to do was pick it up and take a bite, but he waited. “My point is that this—here, right now, us eating together—is about getting to know each other.”
That buried smile disappeared. “Why do we need to?”
“Why?” Good lord, she was serious. He could tell from the confused expression. Nothing about her tone or demeanor telegraphed amusement or suggested she was joking.
“It’s a job. You go in and do it.” She shrugged. “I’d rather spend our time this afternoon with you telling me your big plan so that we can figure out what we do next.”
They appeared to have very different views on who was going to be in charge of this operation. He was very clear, but she seemed to be confused. “Let me understand this. You think we need to agree on strategy?”
“Of course.”
“That’s not how this works.” Not in his world. Not ever. When he took on a job he ran it alone, not by committee.
She shoved her plate to the side and leaned on her elbows, inching closer to him across the top of the two-seat table. “Do you understand what’s at stake here?”
“Likely a silent promise you made to your sister that you would make sure her killer didn’t go free.” It was a guess, but an educated one. He’d dealt with grieving family members before. He’d seen both sides of the battle lines. So, when her eyes widened he knew he’d scored. “And your peace of mind.”
She glanced down at her salad then at the two men at the table next to them who were locked in an argument about football season tickets. When she finally looked back at him again, some of the stress around her eyes had disappeared. “You get it.”
“I know guilt when I see it.” Worse, he knew how it ate away at a person, not needing darkness to creep and spread. Yes, it stole sleep but it haunted the daylight hours, too. Any free minute when his mind wasn’t bombarded with other thoughts, the doubts moved in and took hold, and he knew his experience was not unusual.
“I’m not—”
“Let’s try it this way.” He decided to jump in, make it clear he knew the basics and save her from having to relive them. “You and your sister were raised by a single mom. You grew up without money, so Shauna looked for alternative ways to fund her education. She stumbled onto Sullivan and its promise of providing an education while learning skills and working her way through.”
He knew the story by heart because it played over and over in so many faces, so many people, all sorts of backgrounds at Sullivan. The so-called school thrived on being the place to land for people who craved security and wanted to make a better life. Many went on to do just that, didn’t get sucked into the rest. But for those who did . . . something sinister filled that need for security.
Cate’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “You sound like a brochure for the place.”
Once, a long time ago, he’d memorized the thing. That was one of his jobs—to talk up Sullivan. “But nothing was as it seemed at the school.”
“Understatement.”
“Two years before the ATF stormed the place and closed it, making it the very private, no-trespassers-allowed commune it is now, your sister died there.” Damon knew he should tiptoe through this part, be more patient than he could usually muster.
“She was murdered.”
“That’s your theory.” And her mother’s and a few others. But louder, more powerful voices overwhelmed the accusations, shutting down any talk until the official school and all that good press ended in a storm of bullets two years later.
“Do you know better?”
As someone who prided himself on collecting intel, this was one time he knew too much. “I start from a place where I don’t have a preconceived answer about what happened to your sister. I listen to the evidence and follow it.”
Cate took a quick look around before leaning in a little more. “They said she fell off the water tower. Lost her balance.”
Damon blocked the noise of the busy restaurant. The clanking of dishes and low hum of conversation faded away as he looked at her. “You don’t buy it.”
“She was deathly afraid of heights. There’s no way she would have been on that ladder, thirty feet off the ground.”
Sounded pretty convincing to him, but he didn’t want her to get her hopes up. She’d been battling this case for years. The idea that he could rush in and fix it all even with Wren’s considerable power and backing struck Damon as ridiculous. Life didn’t work that way and she didn’t really need a white knight. He got that now. What she needed was answers.
“Is that your total case against the official story?” he asked.
“If we do this, I need to know you’re on my side.” She thumped her finger against the table, rattling the water in the glasses. “I can’t have any questions about your loyalty.”
Wrong answer. “If you want blind devotion without regard to facts, I’m not your man.”
“Okay.” She nodded before rolling up her napkin and throwing it on the table. Then she was on
her feet.
Fury pounded off her. Every muscle tensed. He’d failed her. The vacant look in her eyes said that much without uttering the actual words.
This woman exhausted him. “But if you want someone who will literally risk everything to find an answer, then you want me, Cate.”
She ignored the curious glances from a few people sitting around them. Damon guessed they looked as if they were engaged in a lovers’ quarrel or fight of some sort. Even the waiter who had been headed for their table completed an abrupt U-turn and walked away.
Smart bastard.
Emotions moved across her face. Anger, frustration and finally resignation. Another minute passed before she blew out a long breath and sat back down. She didn’t bother to say anything but she picked up her fork, which he took as a sign that they had overcome a roadblock, even though he wasn’t clear how.
“Well, Cate Pendleton. Do you want me or not?” The comment came out more provocative than he intended.
Before he could clean it up, she nodded. “For now.”
She might be annoying, but he did like her style. Noncommittal and making him work for every inch forward. The combination had him reeling and wanting to know more. “That response doesn’t sound promising.”
“Trust needs to be earned.” She dropped her fork and reached across the table to snatch a few of his french fries.
Okay, that move made him like her a bit less. “So, you’re one of those.”
“What?”
“French fry stealer. You could have ordered your own but chose to take mine instead.”
She shrugged as she grabbed two more fries that had fallen off the edge of his plate and onto the place mat. “Maybe you’re being a bit dramatic?”
“You’ll learn fast.”
“What?”
When she reached over again, he moved his plate closer to him and the edge of the table. “That if you want something, all you have to do is ask.”
She blinked a few times. “I don’t . . .”
“Do you often just drop the back end of your sentences?”
She winced. “Unfortunately, yes.”
That might have been the most endearing admission he’d ever heard. “Well, my point still stands. Ask.”
“Are we still talking about food?”
He gave in and spun the plate around while pushing it toward her. The move gave her an easy line to the fries. “Excellent question.”
Chapter 4
Cate had never seen anyone get so much joy out of a hamburger. She kept stealing Damon’s fries just to prevent him from going overboard and starting to moan. But that was fifteen minutes ago. Now they were back in the conference room, sitting in the same chairs they’d left before they ate, with Garrett looming over them. Staring and smiling.
Her mood flipped as a familiar wariness settled inside her. Garrett looked like a man with a secret and she’d never found that to end well for her.
Garrett’s gaze moved from Damon to Cate. “Congratulations. I see you survived lunch.”
She wouldn’t go that far. “Sort of.”
“It’s been a rocky almost two hours of knowing each other, but at least I’m no longer hungry.” Damon shrugged. “Not right now, anyway.”
“Sounds like this relationship is off to a great start.” Garrett took one folder off the stack in front of him and shot it across the table toward Damon. The other landed in front of her. “Speaking of which . . .”
Damon opened it but didn’t look down to see what was inside. “What’s this?”
“Your cover.”
Damon shut the file just as quickly. “Excuse me?”
Two words were all it took for most of her wariness to slip away. When she got a good look at Damon’s expression—open mouth and wide eyes—she almost laughed. A you’ve-got-to-be-kidding vibe thrummed off him.
She guessed her smile matched Garrett’s. “He thought he was in charge.”
Garrett shook his head. “Yeah, well, he’s wrong.”
She couldn’t help it. She had to take a peek, see what Garrett had in mind. If the contents had the power to knock Damon speechless, she was in. In the short time she’d known him, he hadn’t exactly been quiet.
Damon slid the folder back toward Garrett. “You are not assigning us a—”
“No way.” She blinked a few times as the lines on the page in front of her came into focus. “This is a joke, right?”
Damon frowned. “What does it say?”
“We’re dating.” Her voice rose, and she didn’t even try to calm it back down. “Each other.”
Damon stopped in the middle of reaching for his folder again and stared at her. “And the thought of that is what has you screaming?”
“You’re missing the point.” Like, he wasn’t even in the same universe as she was right now.
Garrett’s eyebrow lifted. “It was an interesting reaction. Explains a lot about the sad state of Damon’s dating life. Apparently, women run away screaming in horror. Who knew?”
She decided to ignore any reference to Damon’s dating life. But now she knew he was single, not that she cared because she refused to care. “You basically threatened to have me arrested for eating your french fries.”
Garrett made a humming sound. “You didn’t touch his hamburger, did you?”
“She’s exaggerating. A little.” Damon held up a finger as if he was making some grand point. “And it was, like, ten fries. Not just a few.”
“That many? Oh, sure. That makes your reaction completely reasonable.” The sarcasm dripped off every word Garrett said.
Enough food talk. She needed them to focus on kicking this idea so they could come up with a better one. “We can’t pull this off.”
“You sure?” Garrett winced. “Because Thanksgivings growing up sounded a lot like this. The screeching and arguing. Feels like family to me.”
Damon stood up with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m suddenly worried about your marriage.”
“If you’d sit back down we could go over this,” Garrett said as he eyed the now empty chair.
“No.” Damon shook his head as if to emphasize his point.
“This time I agree with him.” And that made her nervous.
Garrett leaned back in his chair. Didn’t seem to care that he tipped it far enough that the chair looked ready to fall over. “You can’t just walk up to the locked gate and knock.”
“But we can . . .” Nothing else came to her. Not a single word.
Garrett stared at her. “Yes?”
She looked at Damon for assistance. “I was hoping you would finish the sentence for me.”
Wasn’t he supposed to be the big-time covert ops guy? Actually, now that she thought about it, she didn’t know what his skills were. He talked about strategy, so he could use that pretty head of his and come up with one.
Damon dropped back into his chair. “With that bossiness, maybe we are married.”
She snapped her fingers at him. “Focus. He’s suggesting we go in there and . . .” She hadn’t gotten past the first paragraph on the page, so she didn’t actually know what came next. “What?”
“Damon knows people at Sullivan,” Garrett said.
All the questions bombarding her brain disappeared in a flash. Now she had a bunch of new ones. She went with the obvious first one. “How?”
“Let the man finish telling us about his stupid idea,” Damon said through what looked like a locked jaw.
“You’re saying you’re going to answer my question once he finishes?” She didn’t buy that for a second.
“No, I just think the sooner he finishes we can come up with a better idea.” Damon turned to Garrett. “Go ahead.”
“Under this cover, you two met each other when Cate kept bugging you for information on Sullivan.” Garrett’s smile never slipped as he looked from Damon to Cate. “See, since you’ve been asking questions and causing trouble, they are going to know you and not want you on the grounds.”
&nbs
p; “He makes a good point,” Damon mumbled under his breath.
She decided to ignore that comment, too. She was starting to think that might be her best defense mechanism until all of this was over. “But you think because I walk into Sullivan with Damon here, the fine people of Sullivan will welcome me.”
“No, I think you can sell the story that you fell for each other and Damon is taking you there to meet some people and prove to you that your theory about your sister is wrong.”
“It’s not wrong.” She was murdered. The words ran through Cate’s brain nonstop these days.
Garrett frowned at her. “Do you understand what a cover story is?”
She had too many questions to make any sense of the plan. The biggest one kept echoing in her head. She glanced at Damon. “Why will they let you in?”
His expression stayed blank. “I have a way with people.”
Garrett snorted. “Hardly.”
They were pushing her off topic. She could see it. Garrett used humor. Damon avoided. They knew things she didn’t, and she hated that.
“What aren’t you telling me?” She didn’t care which one of them answered so long as one of them did.
“Here’s an idea.” Garrett tipped his chair forward again to rest his elbows on the edge of the conference room table. “You two will have plenty of time together, in tight quarters because people who are dating would share a room, and you can ask and answer all the questions about each other then.”
For a few seconds, no one said anything. She fought to come up with another plan—any other plan—and nothing came to her. When she looked at Damon she didn’t exactly see him jumping up to offer suggestions either. The only sense of satisfaction in the entire room came from Garrett. He practically reeked of it, which made her hate his plan even more. “He thinks he won.”
Damon looked at Garrett then nodded. “He’s annoying like that.”
She tried one last time. “What was your plan for getting into Sullivan?”
“I go to the gate and yell until someone opens it,” Damon said.
Garrett nodded. “Brilliant. We’ll call that Plan D.”
There was no way that was the sum total of his plan to help her . . . right? “Once you were done yelling what did you think would happen?”
The Protector Page 3