“Did you mean that?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer. I’d meant it when I said it. I loved deeply and loved forever. But I was reluctant to admit that now. And since our future was uncertain, what would she think of my answer?
“I did,” I finally said.
She inhaled and hesitated, tensing. Her arms tightened around her middle. Was she wavering, possibly trying to decide whether to pursue that line of questioning? Not being able to see directly into her eyes, it was tough for me to tell. She took another deep breath. “Do you?”
I blinked. Was she asking me if I still loved her? It sounded like it. It also sounded almost like she was dreading the answer. My pulse raced, and I was so nervous I was physically ill. I definitely hadn’t seen this conversation coming.
In a perfect world, I’d declare my love for her, she’d return the sentiment, and we’d live happily ever after. But this wasn’t a perfect world. It was real life. I was having a hard time letting go of the past, and I wasn’t keen to open myself up to let her hurt me again. Now I clenched my fists in the bedsheet. I wasn’t ready for this. Why the hell had I come up here again?
“Where are you going with this?” I asked.
Allison finally looked at me, her eyes narrowed. She studied me, as though trying to determine whether I was being a smart-ass. Her dark look made me uneasy, and I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly bone-dry.
“Just trying to figure out what a declaration of love from you means, that’s all.”
“What?”
“Well, you fell in love with the girl you started seeing immediately after me pretty damn fast. Do you just say that to anyone or did it really mean something?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even go on a date until almost a year after you left NYFO.” I felt like a total loser even admitting that much. I didn’t mention that she’d just watched the only real relationship I’d ever actually attempted dissolve. No need to play all my cards at once, right?
Allison looked angry now, and I winced initially, but then my stubborn pride kicked in. What the hell was she so angry about? She’d dumped me. Hard. And then she’d left New York. I hadn’t heard from her until a few days ago. How dare she question me about what I’d done or with whom and when?
“Don’t lie to me, Ryan. I deserve better.”
How had we ended up here? I didn’t even know what she was accusing me of.
“Allison, I’d never lie to you about something like this. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Allison’s shrewd, calculating stare went on so long I wondered if she was about to toss me out of her hotel room on my ass and in my birthday suit. I struggled to stay calm and remain focused. I would not allow myself to get carried away by becoming all emotional.
She finally spoke. “I heard you.” She turned away from me and rubbed tiredly at her forehead.
“You heard me what?”
She slammed her hand back onto the bed and clenched the sheet at her side in a rough fist again. “My last day in New York, before I left for D.C., I came by your office. I…I wanted to say good-bye.”
I nodded. The memory was bittersweet. “Okay.”
“You were on the phone with someone. Someone named Ashley. You told her you loved her. And you made sure to emphasize her name.”
Who was Ashley? Why was Allison so sure she’d heard me declare my love for her? “What the hell are you talking about? Why would you think I’d make sure to emphasize the name? That doesn’t even make any sense.”
Allison’s huff sounded irritated. “You’re telling me you didn’t know I was standing there? You didn’t say that on purpose just to hurt me? To ensure I knew you’d moved on?”
“You thought I was trying to hurt you? Nice. That’s great. Thank you.”
“It was the only explanation that made any sense.”
“Why would you even care? We’d been broken up for months. What difference could it have made to you?”
“Just because we’d broken up, do you think I was okay with you rubbing some woman named Ashley in my face?”
I stopped. I didn’t know anyone by that name. I’d never known anyone named Ashley. Allison must’ve heard wrong because—
The phone rang, and I looked to Allison as though she could tell me who was calling and why. She looked as surprised as I felt, and I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. A call at this time of night was never a good thing.
“Is that your phone or mine?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She crawled out of bed and padded over to the desk. We’d just been arguing, so I shouldn’t have been distracted by the smorgasbord of delectable flesh on display, but I was.
Allison looked down at her phones and then turned back to me and shook her head. “Not mine.”
I groaned and rolled out of bed, then followed the ringing sound. Sure enough, it was coming from my purse, which was still on the floor near the door. I cursed and retrieved it, hoping it was a wrong number or someone had butt-dialed me. The name on the caller ID shattered those dreams.
I looked at Allison. “It’s my boss.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Why’s he calling you now?”
“No clue.” I sighed heavily. I never wanted to talk to Mark on a good day, so I definitely wasn’t in the mood for his special brand of shenanigans now. I rubbed my temple as I thumbed the answer button and lifted the phone to my ear. “O’Connor.”
“Where are you?” Mark sounded almost angry, which didn’t improve my disposition.
I watched Allison as she slid back into bed and pulled the covers over herself. She propped herself up with several pillows and busied herself with her phone. She didn’t appear angry, but she didn’t look happy either. I didn’t blame her. I wouldn’t have been particularly pleased if she’d interrupted our fight to take a phone call.
“O’Connor?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m here. What did you need?”
“I need to know where you are right now.”
“Why?”
“Are you at home?”
Alarm bells jangled loudly in the back of my head. He didn’t generally concern himself with my whereabouts when I was off duty, and I wasn’t willing to set that precedent. “What can I help you with, Mark?”
“I need to know how quickly you can get to NYFO. I know you live in the city.”
“Why? What happened?”
Allison glanced up from her phone then and gave me a questioning look. I shrugged and rolled my eyes.
“The two-to-ten guys locked someone up tonight, but obviously they won’t be able to get him before a judge for several more hours. I need someone to babysit him until the six-to-two guys come on so they can go home and get some sleep.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I closed my eyes and thumped my head lightly against the wall. This was most definitely not the best time for me to come to the aid of my country or my coworkers. For one thing, Allison and I apparently had some issues to resolve. For another, I was still a little tipsy.
“Are the midnight response guys available?” I wanted to know.
“Do you think I’d be calling you if they were?”
I did, actually. But now didn’t seem like the best time to point that out. My shoulders sagged, and my heart sank. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell the guys to expect me within the hour.”
I didn’t bother to wait for a reply. I simply hung up and took a deep breath. Would Allison be relieved I was leaving or angry we wouldn’t get to finish our argument? With a bellyful of dread, I opened my eyes and met her frank stare.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I have to go.”
Allison’s eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms across her chest, pursing her lips. “Okay.”
My intestines tried to climb up into my chest and suffocate my heart. I took a tentative step toward her, unsure how to proceed. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted, let alone how to get it. I stared at her as I attempted to divine my own desires as well as
hers.
“I really am sorry,” I said.
Allison unfolded her arms and ran one hand through her hair. She still seemed annoyed but not necessarily at me. She shook her head and waved her other hand. “Don’t worry about it. If anyone understands, it’s me. Duty calls. What can you do?”
“Yeah.” That about summed it up.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You had quite a bit to drink tonight.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not driving, and I only have to babysit this guy for a couple hours until the day tour comes in. He’ll have already been searched by the time I get there. I won’t have to actually interact with him. I’ll just have to watch him and make sure he doesn’t somehow try to kill himself. I won’t even need to take my gun out of its lock box.”
“Okay.” She was studying me intently.
I had no idea what else to say, so I started to collect my clothes. Allison stared at me silently the entire time. I didn’t look directly at her, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye, and her attention never wavered. Each second I remained under her scrutiny, I became more tense.
Finally, when I was completely clothed and out of reasons to avoid looking at her, I turned back to the bed. I wanted to rush over to her and fall back into her arms. I wanted to run from the room as fast I could. I wanted to sit down and hash out all the issues we’d never bothered to resolve. I wanted her to never speak to me again because I was terrified of what she’d say. I didn’t know what the hell I wanted.
“Allison, I—”
“It’s okay.” She seemed guarded, almost cold, totally impenetrable. That made me nervous.
“Are…Are you sure?” I hated to leave things with her like this.
She attempted a smile, but the result was pitiful. “I’m sure. Go.”
I hesitated. Should I kiss her? I’d never had to leave anyone this abruptly in the middle of an unfinished argument. I’d certainly never had to run out on someone I had a history with, someone I might have a future with. I had no idea what she expected.
Allison pulled the sheet tighter around her and nodded in the direction of the door. “Good night, Ryan.”
My heart cracked. “Good night, Allison.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The cab ride to NYFO was longer than I wanted it to be, not because I wanted to get to the office but because it gave me far too much time to think. Thinking only reminded me how completely at sea I was when it came to the direction of my life.
As the car sped down the nearly deserted FDR, I wondered whether our night of passion was a one-time thing. I sighed heavily and allowed my head to loll back on the seat. Allison and I needed to talk about a lot of issues. When—or if—would we ever do that?
I was still attracted to her, true. Recalling her kiss lit a blazing fire in certain parts of my body. And I obviously still had very deep and powerful feelings for her, but I couldn’t just go back to being what we’d once been. Not again. I was older now, if not necessarily wiser. I didn’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret. Not even hers. Not even for a hundred nights like the one we’d just had. My lungs shriveled and my gut clenched at the thought.
Where did that leave us? Should I reach out to her or give her space and let her determine for herself whether she wanted to speak to me? I definitely didn’t want to open myself up for rejection by initiating the discussion, but would the conversation ever happen if I didn’t start it? My indecisiveness was irritating the hell out of me.
I’d originally thought the task of watching the prisoner would drive thoughts of Allison from my mind, but he’d had his head down on the table when I’d arrived. After I determined he was merely sleeping and not dead, I didn’t have much else to occupy myself. So I stared at him through the one-way mirror from the adjacent interviewing room and tried—and failed—not to let myself get too tied up in knots.
By the time the six-to-two guys finally rolled in, I’d nearly worn a path in the linoleum by pacing and about driven myself insane with all my speculating and worrying. I originally hadn’t looked forward to administering the rest of the PT tests that morning, but at least it would distract me from my own overactive imagination, temporarily.
Always prepared, I had a spare suit stashed in my closet at my desk and an extra set of PT clothes in my locker. After the day guys had relieved me, I took the world’s fastest shower, dressed, and headed to the gym.
I barreled through the door as I wiped droplets of water from my cheeks, which had dripped down from my still-wet hair. My untied shoelaces flapped about my ankles as I walked.
“Ryan,” a deep voice called the second I was in the door.
“What?” I turned toward the sound, and my face blazed as I realized who I was talking to.
Matt Levise, one of the office’s three Assistant-Special-Agents-In-Charge—or ASAICs—strode my way, looking all business. He was dressed in his normal attire—dress slacks and a button-down shirt with a tie—so clearly he wasn’t there to join the PT test. He had a sheaf of papers in his hands and a slightly amused twinkle in his eye. Not much to go on.
“Oh, good morning, sir,” I said quickly. Matt—despite how I might address him or refer to him in conversation, I was still having trouble thinking of him as ASAIC Levise—was two levels above me in the NYFO chain of command, which meant only one other person was between him and the SAIC. It was always a good idea to show a certain amount of deference to a man of his pay grade. Well, unless that man was an ass. Then all bets were off.
Matt gave me a stern look. “Sir? Seriously, Ryan. How many times do we have to go over this?”
I shrugged and smiled up at him. “At least once more, as always. Sir.” He made a face at me, which I ignored. Instead, I inclined my head toward the papers in his hand. “Those for me?”
He nodded but didn’t hand them over. He cut a quick glance toward where the guys and girls I’d be testing were milling about and chatting idly and then motioned for me to walk with him out into the hall.
“I’ll be right back, guys,” I called to them. “If you need to hit the head, now’s the time. You have two minutes.”
Once the door snicked shut behind me, and we were alone in the hallway, Matt fixed me with a steadily appraising look. It was difficult for me to determine what he was looking for or what he found. His demeanor was what people expected of a Secret Service agent, and his countenance gave away nothing. For lack of anything better to do, I held my hand out, wordlessly asking for the stack of PT score sheets. After he’d handed them over, I began to flip through them, counting silently in my head. A lot more folks needed to squeeze this in than just the guys in my squad.
After staring at me, Matt spoke, his tone even and measured. “How are you feeling today?”
I glanced at him from underneath my eyebrows without lifting my head. “I’m fine.” Was he asking because I actually looked as exhausted as I felt or because he’d heard I’d been out with the guys the night before. Either was possible, and both were mildly irksome.
“Fine enough to actually take the PT test while you’re administering it?”
I frowned. I hadn’t been expecting that question. I also wasn’t even remotely in the mood. “I already took my test for the quarter.”
“I know you did.” Matt hesitated and glanced away, but it didn’t appear as though his eyes were actually seeing what they were looking at. It did, however, seem as if he was weighing something in his mind. It took a few moments, but eventually he must’ve made a decision. He tapped the top paper in my hands with the tips of two fingers.
I glanced down and noted the name typed neatly at the top of the standardized Secret Service PT form. Eric Banks. The name didn’t ring a bell. I looked back up at Matt and met his steady gaze.
“He’s new,” Matt informed me as if reading my mind. “He’s been out of training for maybe four months. He’s in Counterfeit.”
“Okay.”
> “I’ve been hearing some pretty disturbing things about him. He’s cocky. He’s arrogant. Apparently he walks around here like he’s God’s gift to the world.”
The muscles in my face twitched as I attempted to rein in a smirk. “Well, all of us are just a shade too cocky for our own good, don’t you think? We sort of have to be. I drove you crazy when I first started, remember?”
“You were a smart-ass, true enough. Still are, from what I can see. But I’d never describe you as cocky.”
“Thanks. I think.”
Matt flashed me a tight-lipped smile. “This kid is different,” he insisted. “I’ve been watching him the past couple weeks. Shows up late. Leaves early. Argues with or questions every single order he’s given. Has an opinion on everything. His way is always better. Never mind that he’s only been on the job a hot five minutes. He has an answer for everything and won’t listen to anybody. In short, he’s a real pain in the ass.”
And he was about to become Rico’s problem. Wonderful. “It’s a wonder no one’s thrown him a blanket party.”
“Believe me, some of the guys are about ready to. He needs the wind taken out of his sails a little bit.”
I’d known Matt for several years now. He’d been the AT of the Human Resources and Training Squad when I’d first started, which meant we’d spent a fair amount of time together at the outset. He was the exact opposite of my current boss, Mark. He was kind and fair and patient, so I knew if he was saying all of this about this kid, it was true.
“Did you talk to the scheduling guys? They’re excellent at this sort of thing.”
“I did. And they’ve been working on it. Midnight vehicle-security assignments, stairwell post standing, and duty-desk shifts abound for this guy. So far, he isn’t getting it.”
“I see. So, where do I come in?”
“Turn his paper over.”
I did and discovered a small sticky note with some numbers jotted on it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were the scores recorded from his last PT test, which I presumed had been administered while he was still in Beltsville. “Impressive.”
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