The Safe Bet

by Brittney Sahin

  Blood spurted from Dustin’s hand as his gun clattered to the floor. He pulled his hand to his body, cursing.

  “Michael,” she cried.

  Michael shifted his gaze to Kate for a second before focusing his weapon back on Dustin. “You thought you could outsmart me? That you could trick me into that house? Do you think that what you saw at the rental home was real, too?” He shot Dustin again without hesitation.

  The bullet pierced his shoulder and Dustin took a step back, moving farther away from Kate.

  “You believed what I wanted you to,” Michael said.

  She was so close to him. If her hands weren’t cuffed, she’d reach out and touch him, just to make sure he was real.

  “The Feds want me to keep you alive.” He tilted his head and studied Dustin, watching the blood ooze from the open wound. “I don’t know if I can do that.” He trained his weapon back on Dustin, aiming for his head.

  “Put the gun down,” shouted a loud voice.

  “No,” Michael responded, his eyes laser focused on the bloody figure before him.

  Jake entered the room with a few other officers close behind him, dressed in full SWAT combat gear. “Michael, please, we need to interrogate him for information. We need to know his sources. Please.” Jake moved up behind Michael and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Kill me,” Dustin taunted. “You know you want to.”

  “Michael, no—it’s what he wants. Death is too easy for someone like him.” Jake was desperate.

  Dustin kneeled on the ground in the living room a few feet away, still holding his bleeding hand, the hole in his shoulder gaping and bloody.

  “Michael, don’t do it.” Her own words surprised her. She wanted Dustin dead as much as Michael, if not more.

  At the sound of Kate’s voice, Michael directed his attention to her. And after a few long moments of staring into her eyes, he lowered his weapon. “Kate,” he muttered as federal agents swarmed the room.

  “Michael, I—”

  “Are you okay?” He swooped to his knees in front of her and began untying the ropes at her ankles. A nearby officer tossed him a cuff key, and he freed her wrists.

  She flung her arms around his neck, holding him as she sobbed. She felt him flinch, and she pulled away. He was hurt—of course, he was hurt. They’d been in a crash. “Are you okay?” She swiped at her tears, trying to focus.

  “You’re okay, so yeah—I’m great.” He helped her out of the seat and pulled her close to his body. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get you.”

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  They held onto each other as they exited the cabin through the front door.

  They were greeted by a swarm of flashing red and blue.

  “I realized he would take you to the last place I would ever think of.” He walked her toward the waiting ambulance.

  “Your own cabin,” she concluded and shook her head in disbelief. “I was at my grandparents’ place. That was where he first took me—I didn’t even realize it until he rushed me out of there.” She sat down on the bed in the ambulance and reached for Michael’s hand once he was next to her.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you.” He tipped her face in his direction. “Dustin didn’t . . . um . . . he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  Understanding flashed in her eyes. “No.” Thank God.

  “This is all my fault. He used you to get to me. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice thick with guilt.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s my dad’s fault.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MICHAEL WALKED THE FEW BLOCKS to Kate’s hotel, his nerves twisting like melted steel with each step. It had been a few days since the showdown with Dustin. He still couldn’t believe everything that had happened.

  When he reached Kate’s room, he stood in front of her door, trying to figure out the right words.

  His arm felt heavy as he lifted it to knock. The pain from the gunshot wound and the bruises from the accident were still fresh and very much active. But some other weight was dragging him down.

  “Hi,” she said in a small voice once opening it.

  He studied her as he entered the room. She looked better than yesterday. Her face had its natural glow back, and her eyes looked a little brighter. “How are you?”

  She rubbed her hands against her thighs and gave him a slight nod. “As good as can be expected.” She took a seat on the leather sofa. “How’s Julia? You saw her today, right?” She teased her tongue between her teeth before biting her lower lip.

  She was nervous. Was she nervous because of him?

  “Yeah, I saw her.” He took a seat in the chair across from the sofa.

  “Does she know everything?” Her voice quivered a little with each word.

  He nodded and looked down at the ground, lacing his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees. “When are you planning to go back home?” There. He’d said it.

  She scooted back on the sofa a little and looked out the glass balcony door. “I’m not going back home. I’m going to rent a place in Boston. I can’t live in the same city as my father right now.”

  “What about here?” He wasn’t sure what his own question implied, but he had to ask.

  “Michael, I—I don’t know if we should—” She stopped herself. “Dustin forced us to be together for his own game, and now . . .”

  “Dustin is not why we were together. He didn’t manufacture my feelings for you.”

  “And what feelings might those be?” She lifted her brows and focused her blue-green eyes on him.

  Shit. She wanted him to say it, didn’t she? She didn’t believe he was really capable of handling her heart without breaking it. But what could he say? “I care about you, Kate. I told you at the cabin that I wanted to give you more.”

  “And what does more mean? I’m sorry to do this right now, but after everything we’ve been through, I need to know where we stand. I need to know if I’m making the right decision.”

  “You mean the decision to leave Charlotte? To move to Boston?” He straightened in his chair.

  “I don’t know. I guess. I just found out I’ve been living a lie. Nothing seems real . . . So much for making plans, right?” She faked a laugh and smoothed a hand over her cheek. “I’m trying to understand this thing between us. You’re the man who doesn’t do commitment, who was seeing someone else while sleeping with me . . . I just don’t know.”

  What the hell was she talking about? What woman? “I’ve only slept with you.”

  “The redhead.” Her cheeks deepened to a rosy hue as if she were embarrassed by her jealousy.

  “Trisha?” Michael stood, needing to be grounded to say what he was about to. “I told you—we’re friends. Nothing happened between us. Nothing would ever happen between us.” He could tell she needed more by the way she averted her eyes. “The day I was shot in Afghanistan, I lost a lot of friends,” he explained slowly. “One of them was Eddie, and he left behind a wife. He was the only one of us who was married, and I promised myself I would look after her, always, for him.”

  He watched as Kate’s gaze shifted toward his. She stared at him, blinking a few times. “September is a rough month for her, and for me. It’s the anniversary of the day he died. I guess her feelings for me got a little muddled, and she kissed me. I explained to her that I could never feel that way for her. She agreed—she was embarrassed, even. She wanted to see me again to apologize.” He moved toward the couch and sat beside her. “I should have told you, but this stuff is hard for me to talk about. You know that.”

  She reached for his hand and held it. The gesture sent a jolt through his system. God, he cared about this woman—more than she could possibly understand. But he fought the urge to take her in his arms and hold her—to promise her that everything would be okay.

  He didn’t know the future. He didn’t know if he could promise her forever. He released her hand and was back on his fe
et, moving toward the window.

  She rose from the couch and approached him, standing by his side.

  “What we have is real, but I don’t know how much of me there is left to give.”

  His words must have alarmed her because she took a step away.

  “Kate.” He faced her and extended his arm, but she slipped out of reach. “I’m not too different from Dustin if you think about it. I’ve killed countless people. I’ve taken lives without hesitation when ordered. I would have killed Dustin if you hadn’t stopped me.”

  “You’re nothing like him.” Standing across the room from him now, she turned her back.

  He lowered his head and focused on the plush carpet beneath his shoes. He heard the distant sound of the radio playing from the nearby bedroom. It was Sam Smith’s song, “Stay With Me.” How perfect . . .

  The lyrics sounded in his ears, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. “I don’t know if I’m going back into the military, Kate. And as much as I care about you—I can’t let you be like Trisha.” He paused and tried to fight the pain that was slowly seeping inside him. “I can’t be Eddie. I can’t be off in the Middle East worrying about you. I can’t leave behind a woman I—”

  She faced him, her eyes watery. “I’ve fallen for you, Michael. I’ve never truly felt this way before. I didn’t want to. Not yet. I had plans.” Her hands trembled.

  Her and her damn plans.

  “But I can’t try and turn you into something you’re not. I can’t ask you to give me more if you’re not ready. I’m going to leave tomorrow as planned.”

  He watched as she tried to slip a mask over her face, to shield her emotions, but he knew better. He felt as shredded, just as broken. “Kate—”

  “No, don’t. Don’t say anything.” She turned back away from him. “Please, go.”

  He stared at her long blonde hair, dying to run his hands through it. He wanted to kiss her. To lose himself. To feel human.

  But it was pointless. He’d never be able to shake the pain of his memories away. He’d never be the man Kate deserved.

  And so, he forced his feet to the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  KATE EXITED HER BROWNSTONE APARTMENT in Boston and took in a breath of the fresh air. It was a beautiful Monday morning in October. The temperature was hovering in the low fifties, but the blue sky made it feel warmer. The sun beat down on her shoulders as she walked down the tree lined street, loving the golden orange and red leaves that danced in the breeze.

  It had been a month since the day Michael had walked out of the hotel room. A month since she’d heard the sexy baritone of his voice.

  She had told him to leave. It was her own fault. She just never imagined his absence would hurt so much.

  Julia had called her like clockwork twice a week, although she never uttered Michael’s name. And neither did Kate. Instead, they spoke about daily details, made jokes, discussed business. Julia had told her she’d decided to put the next Maddox Gala on hold for a little while. Although she didn’t say as much, Julia was probably hoping that Kate would change her mind and host the New York event as they’d originally planned. But Kate didn’t think she could do it. She had offered Julia the services of the New York office, which was certainly up to the task, but still, Julia had hemmed and hawed.

  As she rounded the corner and the cafe came into view, she saw his tall, muscular frame. It was unmistakable.

  “You shaved your beard,” she teased.

  Connor rushed toward her and scooped her into his arms, hugging her. “So good to see you.” He set her down and pinched her cheek like she was his kid sister. “Glad we could meet up. When I heard from Julia you were living in Boston I thought I’d give you a call. I just finished a job.”

  “Hopefully it wasn’t another kidnapping case,” she joked.

  “No, a basic bodyguard assignment.” He motioned for her to have a seat at the nearby table. “I went ahead and ordered you a drink,” he said, sliding a latte across the table.

  “Thanks. So, how have you been?”

  “Pretty good. How about you?”

  She thought about how to answer his question. She wanted to ask him about Michael. She was desperate to know how he was doing, but she was too afraid to ask. Plus, she knew she would set herself up for pain. “I’m adjusting to my new life.” She rubbed her cheek. “I opened the paternity test a week ago. I was relieved to discover David is my father.” She exhaled after her admission. It was the first time that she’d said those words aloud.

  “Are you talking to him yet?”

  “No. I don’t think I’m ready for that. It’s a bit of a challenge to forgive him after what happened. I’ve seen my stepmom a few times, and she keeps trying to convince me to see him. But I need more time.” She cleared her throat and forced a smile to her face. “Anyways, I think I’ll be staying in Boston for a while. I’m running my company in Boston only. I gave up my position in New York and put my New York loft up for sale.”

  He smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven face. “And you’re happy here?”

  “I’ve been focused on putting together the Mayor’s Ball. Kind of crazy that I’m working with Erick Jensen on this whole thing, but it has helped keep me busy.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he responded with a firm voice. “I’m worried about you.”

  So am I. “I just don’t know if being an event planner is all that fulfilling anymore.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll quit altogether, someday. I sort of feel . . . adrift.”

  He studied her for a moment before responding. “I know the feeling. When my time was up in the military, I had no idea what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. My father wanted me to run his business, but that’s definitely not what I wanted. Thankfully my younger brother is up for the challenge once he’s out of the Marines. But me—I should’ve stayed in the military.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s honestly hard to explain what it’s like to be in the military, to be on a tour of duty and never know when or if your day is up. And to watch people die—to kill people. It’s hard for civilians to understand.” He clasped his large hands on the table. “But in the service, everyone gets it. We’ve all been through it together.” He laughed as if shaking off his heavy comments. “If being in war doesn’t screw with your head, then you must have been pretty screwed up, to begin with.”

  “Is it hard for you to be in a relationship? You know, because of your time in the Marines?” She leaned forward, wondering if Michael was the only one with the issue.

  He took a moment to drink his latte. “I think it is, for a lot of people,” he responded, without answering the question for himself.

  Connor had a wall up almost as high as Michael, she realized. She watched as his eyes narrowed in on a blonde in a short skirt.

  He averted his attention back to Kate. “Uh, hmm. Sorry.” His lips curved into a smile. “I’m not ready to settle down.”

  “Well, when you think you are, consider moving to Boston. It would be nice to have you here.”

  “Do you mind if I tell Michael that I saw you?”

  She didn’t know how to answer.

  “Kate?” Connor waved his hand in front of her face. “I take that as a no?”

  *

  Michael sat behind his desk and stared at the computer screen. The numbers were becoming blurry. He couldn’t focus. He glanced over at the time and realized that if he didn’t leave soon, he’d be late.

  He hurried out of the office. It was almost four o’clock, but he only needed to walk a few blocks.

  He arrived a few minutes after four and apologized to the receptionist. He was always a prompt person, and he hated being late to anything.

  “He’s ready for you. You can go on in,” the receptionist said.

  He nodded and headed down the long hall and to the office. He knocked on the door and waited for a response before entering.

  The doctor rose from behind hi
s desk and walked toward Michael to greet him. “Good to see you. Have a seat.” He walked back to his desk and grabbed a notepad before seating himself in front of Michael.

  Michael rubbed his palms against his gray slacks and waited for the doctor to speak.

  “So, this is your third week in therapy. Do you feel like you’re making any progress?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “I still feel shitty.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I’m here—instead of with her.”

  “Kate?”

  Michael nodded and looked down at the floor.

  “Have you made your decision about rejoining the military yet?”

  He asked him this question every time he visited. And Michael’s response was always the same. “No.”

  “But you want to be with Kate?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you don’t know if you can be?”

  “Yes.” Michael knew the game. He knew the series of questions he would ask. He knew his answers before he was even asked.

  “Are you having the nightmares?”

  “Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. The dreams had been coming every night, but the nightmares were no longer about the day he almost died in Afghanistan.

  “Tell me about it.”

  He nodded, his eyes still shut. “I watch Dustin slit Kate’s throat. Powerless to stop it.”

  “Why do you think she dies in your dream?”

  He had answered this question before, too. “I don’t know.”

  The doctor usually moved on to another question, but this time he pushed. “I want you to really think about it. You used to dream of watching a fellow Marine die in Afghanistan. His throat was slit, and you couldn’t save him. Everything you dreamt about was true. Why do you think your mind is altering the reality of what actually happened now?”

  “I don’t know,” he responded, almost angry.

  “You saved her life when you couldn’t save the Marine. But for some reason, I think that you’re afraid that if you love her, you’ll somehow kill her. You see yourself as the enemy.”