“I’m going to the East Coast.”
Saylor smiled. “You’re not supposed to tell me that.”
“Give me credit for knowing what I can and can’t tell you.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
She nodded, squared her shoulders, and turned to smile at him. “Thank you for coming over to let me know.”
When Monk stalked toward her, she knew what he would do, and even though her girls were asleep in the other room, she couldn’t bring herself to stop him.
He pushed her back against the wall and grasped her neck. He brought his lips to hers and kissed her hard.
“Monk, please…” As much as she wanted to ask him to stay tonight, to share her bed one last time before he had to leave, she couldn’t do it. If one of the girls woke up in the night and needed their mama, either one of them would come crawl under the covers with her. Monk couldn’t be in her bed if that happened.
She brought her lips to his and kissed him again.
Monk let her go and walked over to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Saylor.”
She locked the door behind him, turned on the security system, and turned off all the lights. She stood near the sliding door that led out to the deck, and watched. Monk stood out on the trail between her house and Razor’s, watching the ocean, or maybe he was looking at the stars. All she knew for sure was that he was in as much pain as she was.
—:—
When Monk arrived at the ferry launch on Chesapeake Bay, Gunner was waiting for him.
“I’m going back to Azerbaijan,” he told him. “Petrov has someone else he’s holding prisoner there.” Monk had heard that Gunner had successfully extracted the former Russian assassin from Petrov’s compound but that the team didn’t have the opportunity to assassinate the man himself. “Your job is to stay on the island with Raketa and keep her safe.”
“Understood.” He hadn’t known that Gunner brought the Russian here, but that really wasn’t any of his business.
“She doesn’t know that I’m leaving, or where I’m going, and I don’t want her to.”
“Roger that,” Monk responded.
Gunner reviewed the logistics of staying on the private island, briefed him on the security systems that would need to be activated, told him which room to stay in, and when he wasn’t sleeping, to make himself scarce while, at the same time, ensuring he knew where Raketa was every minute of every day.
Monk didn’t have a problem with any of it. In fact, he had a lot of thinking to do, and this type of assignment would give him plenty of time to do it.
“PETROV GHOSTED and took everyone with him,” said Gunner, sounding defeated when he called several days later. “He was there one day, and by the time we got there the next, he was long gone.”
“What’s the next step?” Monk asked.
“I’m coming back, but I need you to brief Raketa before I get there.”
Monk took notes, and when he went inside, he handed them to her rather than giving her a verbal briefing. Maybe it wasn’t the right way to do it, but it was likely she preferred it that way. If he were in her shoes, he would’ve.
Before their call ended, Gunner told him he’d be back sometime in the next few days and to expect his text. When he received it, he was to return to the mainland, and Gunner would head back to the island.
From there, Monk was to report directly to Montecito, the town on the Central Coast of California where K19 headquarters were located.
He’d hoped he’d have time to go back to Yachats for at least a couple of days, but it didn’t look as though that was going to happen.
12
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Saylor answered Poppy, who she’d foolishly agreed to meet at one of the downtown bars for happy hour. When she’d stepped inside and saw the place was packed, she almost turned around and left. This so wasn’t her scene. She hadn’t thought it was Poppy’s anymore either.
“Let’s go outside.”
Saylor picked up her glass of wine and followed her friend to the bar’s back patio.
“This is much better.” Poppy motioned to two open chairs. “Can you believe we used to do this every Friday?”
“We did not.”
“I’m pretty sure we did.”
“Your brain is addled. What are you drinking?”
“It’s called a Peach Cobbler. It’s peach moonshine and orange juice. Wanna try it?”
“God, no. How many have you had?”
“Just this one. I’m not exactly the party girl I once was.”
Saylor couldn’t figure out where all these party-every-Friday-night-girl memories were coming from. It certainly wasn’t her that Poppy had gone out with.
“Have you heard from Monk?” her friend asked when the only other two people on the patio went inside.
Saylor shook her head. “I didn’t expect to, though.” He’d been gone two weeks when Razor suddenly left too. “I probably should be spending more time with Ava, but her mother and sister are living here now. I’m sure she’s busy with them.”
Poppy took another sip of her drink. “God, this is good.”
“Order another. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks, but I know better. I’ll feel like death tomorrow if I do.” She set the glass down on the table between them. “I’ve rethought my request for you to hook me up with someone who works for Razor. I can’t be the woman who sits around, waiting for her spy-boyfriend to show up once every six months after flitting all over the world, doing God knows what.”
“Are you suggesting I’m that woman?”
“Settle down. No, I’m not. I’m just saying I can’t do it.”
There’d been a time, not long after her divorce was final, when Razor sat her down and told her all the reasons why getting involved with any one of the guys he worked with would be a terrible idea.
She’d hit right back at him, saying that his breed of egotistical alpha protectors held no interest for her whatsoever. Stupid famous last words.
“They’re all just so hot. You know what I mean?”
Saylor smiled and nodded. “It’s a powerful combination. They’re mysterious, all of them are ripped like bodybuilders, and they protect the world from the bad guys. Hard not to fall for one of them.”
“I would’ve bet a million dollars your brother would never get married.”
“I would’ve been right there with you.”
“But he did. Some of them do, right? Do you think you and Monk—”
“No! Whatever you’re about to ask, the answer is a resounding no. In fact, when he does come back—if he comes back—I’m going to tell him I’m not interested in seeing him anymore.”
“Good luck with that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d be lying, because you are interested in seeing him. Maybe just tell him you’re not built for the life your brother lives. That would be closer to the truth.”
Saylor thought about her friend’s suggestion. It was a valid point. If she lied at all, Monk would pick up on it.
“How are the doodlebugs?”
She sighed. She wasn’t the only one who missed Monk. They did too. Instead of constantly asking when they could visit “Aunt Ava,” they now asked when he’d be back. Two days ago, she’d snapped at them about it, and ended up in tears over it after they’d gone to bed.
“They miss him. Ask about him all the time.”
“What do you tell them?”
“I thought about telling them he wasn’t coming back, but I decided I’d probably go to hell for it. So I just told them I didn’t know.”
“You miss him too, Saylor.”
She took a sip of her wine, wondering if she should’ve ordered something stronger.
“It doesn’t matter. Either way, this thing ends. He has no reason to spend time in Yachats.”
“He doesn’t?”
Saylor shook her head. “None whatsoev
er.”
“Then what is he doing here?”
“What?”
When Poppy motioned over Saylor’s head, she turned around. Yep, Monk was standing right behind her.
“Hi.”
“Hi, Saylor.”
“Excuse me,” said Poppy.
“You don’t have to leave,” Saylor told her when her friend bent down to kiss her cheek.
“Sure, I do.” Poppy walked over to Monk and introduced herself. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Monk looked at her friend briefly, mumbled something Saylor couldn’t hear, and then stalked toward her.
Saylor stood, but before she could say a word, Monk crushed his mouth to hers. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body flush with his. When she tried to break the kiss, he put his hand on the side of her face and held her there, thrusting his tongue deeper into her mouth.
When she whimpered, he finally let her go and rested his forehead against hers. Her lips felt swollen from the pressure of his kiss.
“What did you hear, Monk?”
“Does it matter?”
Saylor took a step back. “It does. Why did you kiss me like that?”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back into him. “I kissed you like that because I’ve spent every minute since I’ve been gone thinking about it.”
“About kissing me?”
“Everything about you.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Let me go, Monk.”
He released her, and she took another step back from him. His eyes bored into hers, and as much as she wished he’d tell her what he was thinking, another part of her didn’t want to know.
“Where are the girls?”
“At the cabin with my mother.”
When he took a tentative step closer, she wanted to take a step back, but stood her ground. He brushed her hair from the side of her face. “I have to ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you pulling away from me in fear, Saylor? If you tell me you’re afraid of me, I’ll leave now. No more questions, and you’ll never see me again.”
His voice was soft, and he was being so gentle.
“I’m not afraid of you, Monk. I know you’d never hurt me.”
“I’d sooner die.”
“I know that.”
He stroked his finger down the side of her face. “Tell me why, then?”
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I see,” he answered, bringing her head to rest on his chest. “We’ve both gone against our word.”
Saylor wrapped her arms around his waist and nodded.
“Come. We’ll have dinner,” he said, taking her hand.
“I’d rather just go back to the house.”
“We’ll end up in bed.”
Saylor walked toward the bar, not letting go of his hand. They wound their way through the crowded room and out the front door.
“Did you drive?” she asked.
Monk pointed to the motorcycle parked nearby.
She couldn’t explain why, but the sight of it rankled her. There was so much she didn’t know about the man who held her hand in his. She knew his name and that he was from the South, but not where exactly. She knew nothing about his family or his history or even that he had a motorcycle.
She could say that she based her trust in him on the fact that he worked for her brother, but that would be a lie. For the second time in her life, she’d fallen for a man solely by trusting her own instincts. The promises she’d made to herself, even her assurances to her brother and her best friend, were lies too.
“I can’t do this,” she said. “It’s over, Monk.”
He looked into her eyes for a long time without speaking. Saylor should’ve walked away, but she couldn’t bring herself to.
“Say something. Anything.”
When he stepped forward and gripped her neck, Saylor expected him to kiss her like he had earlier. Instead, he kissed her forehead, released her, and walked over to his motorcycle.
Saylor watched him, incredulous that he would leave without a word. He didn’t get on the bike, though. He took something out of the saddle bag, walked back over, and held it out.
“What is it?”
“It’s a gift, Saylor. Please take it.”
She let him place the soft bundle in her hand and watched him walk back to the bike.
“Thank you,” she said after him, but doubted he heard. She turned and walked back to her car, trying to decide whether to go straight home or drive to the cabin where her mom and girls were, so she wouldn’t have to be alone.
She set the package next to her, put on her seatbelt, and started the engine. She was about to back up when she saw that Monk had pulled the motorcycle up next to her. She turned the car off, unfastened her seatbelt, opened the door, and got out.
“What just happened?” he asked, getting off the bike and walking over to her.
“I don’t know anything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
She sighed. “That isn’t the point.”
He stood close but didn’t touch her. “What’s the point, Saylor?”
“I said I wouldn’t do this. I don’t want this.”
“This? What’s between us?”
“Yes.” Saylor stepped forward and rested her head against his chest. Monk put his arms around her and rested his head against hers.
“You know me better than you think,” he murmured.
“I don’t know where you grew up.”
“Just outside Nashville, in a place called Franklin.”
“Does your family still live there?”
She could feel him shake his head. “I don’t have any family left. My mother died five years ago, while I was undercover.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Saylor, look at me.” She raised her head. “Whatever you want to know, all you have to do is ask.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“No.”
“Children?”
He smiled. “Before I met your girls, I would’ve said that kids don’t like me.”
“Come back to the house with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll ask more questions.”
—:—
Monk followed on his motorcycle, stopping in the driveway when Saylor pulled her Jeep into the garage.
“There’s room for your bike,” she said, motioning with her hand.
He started the motorcycle back up and pulled into the open space.
“What is it?” she asked when he climbed off and set his helmet on the seat.
“A Ducati Scrambler.”
“I like it.”
Monk followed her inside.
“Wine?”
“I’m good.”
“Mind if I have a glass?”
“Not at all,” he said, taking the bottle from her hand to open it.
“I can do that.”
Monk nodded. “I like doing things for you.”
He followed Saylor out onto the deck, lit the fire pit, and sat down next to her on the outdoor sofa. She snuggled against him when he put his arm around her. He closed his eyes, remembering how he felt only a half-hour ago, thinking that he might never feel her body against his again.
She reached up and put her hand on his heart, as though she knew he was re-experiencing the pain.
“Was your mother your only family?”
Monk opened his eyes and looked out at the water. “I had a sister.”
Saylor sat up, turning so she faced him. “You said that at the hospital. I forgot. What happened to her?”
There were very few people who knew the story, and it was a long time since he’d told it. He took a deep breath. “Men broke into the house, probably to rob it. They found her in the kitchen, and they killed her.”
Saylor put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest like she had before. “I’m so sorry,
Monk.”
He put his hand on her arm. “I need to show you something.”
She sat up. “Okay.”
Monk lifted his shirt, took her hand, and brought the tips of her fingers to the center of one of his tattoos—the Aztec sun—the same one her brother had.
“What is that?” she asked, as her fingers traced the scar.
“I was shot too.”
Saylor put her other hand over her mouth, and her eyes met his.
“They didn’t just kill her. They raped her first.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You were there.”
“I was eleven.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to say.”
He opened her hand so her fingers were splayed over the sun. “When we were at the hospital, you said you didn’t know me then too.”
“I remember.”
“Do you remember what I said?”
Saylor nodded. “You said ‘sure, you do.’ You also asked me if I believe in angels.”
Monk looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, knowing that what he was about to say would sound crazy. “She told me not to let you go. Back in the parking lot.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go inside now.”
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.”
He stood when Saylor did, turned the fire off, and followed her inside. She locked the patio door and reached to turn off the light.
13
Saylor rolled over in bed. Something was different this morning. She could smell coffee. And bacon. Monk was here. He’d spent the night last night. She’d gone from breaking things off with him to mind-blowing sex in the span of a couple of hours.
Instead of getting out of bed, Saylor stayed where she was, trying to decide whether to spend the time analyzing the decisions she made or just go with the flow of life.
Was there really any point in doing the former? She liked Monk. A lot, actually. She knew she could trust him; the man worked for her brother. Her guess was Rhys “Monk” Perrin had been fully vetted prior to K19 giving him his first assignment and then went through another round when her brother found out she and Monk were spending time together. If he’d had any secrets whatsoever, K19 would’ve uncovered every last one of them.
Monk (K19 Security Solutions Book 7) Page 8