For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency)

by Curtis, Shannon

  “Just curious, Ryan, but if you said that to any other woman, do you think it would work?” Drew looked perplexed.

  Ryan frowned. “Vicky’s different. She’s my...friend.”

  “So she doesn’t deserve roses and chocolates?”

  “She does—but she prefers gerberas and Cheetos.” He donned his sling, wincing as he adjusted it on his arm. No chipped bones, no major damage. He had to admit, if he was going to take a bullet, Vicky’s was the best way to do it.

  “Yet you offer her a couple of beers and an arm wrestle.”

  “Shut up.” The way Drew said it made him sound like an idiot.

  “She’s your friend, but she’s still a woman, Ryan. Do you want her?”

  “Of course I do. I...I love her.” The words left his mouth as a whisper. She was his best friend, and he...loved her. Okay. There it was. He. Loved. Vicky. He loved her loyalty, her intelligence, her bravery. Her sass. He thought of how he’d handled the conversation. He’d panicked. He realised that now. Hadn’t known how to handle his feelings with Vicky, or how to take that next step. Now, though, he didn’t want to spend any more time without her by his side. He wanted her. All of her, always. Period. Had he told her that? No. He’d teased her for an arm wrestle.

  “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

  “Well, that goes without saying.”

  “How do I fix this?”

  “I don’t know, why don’t you try telling her?” Drew rose from the chair and they both left the room.

  “She isn’t talking to me.”

  “Oh. You really did mess up, didn’t you?” Drew said as he sauntered alongside Ryan.

  “It’s just—I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Well, make it up to her. What does she like? Make it personal,” Drew suggested.

  “Personal.”

  “Yeah. Do something for her.”

  Ryan nodded. “You’re right.” He paused in the hallway as an orderly wheeled an empty gurney past them, nodding his head in time to the music only he could hear through miniscule earphones. Ryan watched him for a moment.

  “I have an idea.” They started to walk again.

  “Good for you.” Drew smiled, and patted him purposely on his injured shoulder. Ryan shot him a dark look.

  “I’m going to need help, though.”

  “Anything, you name it.”

  Ryan turned to him. “Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. Drew could be a pain, the resident blabbermouth and a Mr. Nosey Parker, but he’d never doubted the man’s friendship, or his good intentions. It had just taken Vicky to make him see it.

  Drew shrugged. “No problem. As long as you’re not organizing some beers and an arm wrestle to woo your girlfriend. I’ve seen what she can do with a loaded gun.”

  Vicky stood before Reese’s desk as he stared up at her, his expression guarded.

  “Would you mind repeating that?” he asked.

  Vicky took another deep breath. “I want my old job back.”

  “I see.” Reese put his pen down and leaned back in his chair, the Chicago skyline, dark and gray, behind him. “Mind if I ask why?”

  Vicky nodded, shifting the sling around her neck to a more comfortable position. “Sure. I don’t like being on the front line. I thought I would, but I don’t. I don’t know how Ryan does it. Every time I spoke with a suspect, I felt sick to my stomach, anxious that they would figure out who I was and what I was doing. And the nausea, oh, God, the nausea. I felt like I needed to puke or pee the whole time. Much as I thought I would like being on the front line, I discovered I don’t. Actually, I hate it. I think I’ve got an ulcer.”

  Reese’s eyebrows rose. “I see.”

  Vicky took the seat opposite his desk. Her leg was beginning to hurt. It had been just over a week since her return from Hawke’s Ridge, and her injuries were still mending. “Ryan is very good at what he does.” She could admit that, because Ryan wasn’t anywhere around. He was on medical leave. He’d tried to call her a couple of times, but after the first “hey, buddy” she’d avoided his calls. It hurt too much. She didn’t want to be his buddy, damn it, she wanted more. She couldn’t pretend that night hadn’t happened. She shivered. Hell no, she didn’t want to. It had been...wonderful. Hot. Steamy. Beautiful.

  Reese sat opposite her, waiting for her to continue. Okay, Reese didn’t need to know about the most glorious night of passion she’d ever experienced. Just the relevant facts.

  “I found it...stressful. I hate admitting that. Ryan had to step in and cover my...behind,” she stopped as memories of him covering her behind rose within, and she tried to ignore the bloom of heat in her cheeks, “and we managed to apprehend the Maxwells, but so many people died, Reese. We could have, should have, been able to stop those murders.”

  Reese frowned. “I see.” He swiveled in his chair. “I didn’t ask you to come in for a performance appraisal, Vicky.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I know.” She hated feeling that she’d disappointed him, disappointed Ryan.

  “But since you started it...,” Reese opened a folder on his desk. “In the total fallout, we have a dead plastic surgeon, a dead surgery assistant, a dead counselor, a dead maid and a dead guest.”

  She nodded, blinking. It was terrible, just terrible what had happened. Those poor folks. Her thoughts turned to her friend, Orla, and she blinked faster. She was gone, she had to accept that.

  “On the flipside, you were instrumental in apprehending two spree killers who were both on a psychopathic hunt for revenge. They were growing excessively more violent with each kill, they had clearly planned everything down to almost the last detail, and nobody knew who they were or why they were killing. The flipside of that body count was that those two had planned to kill every single guest at that resort. Kurt Valden has sustained serious head injuries, with some brain damage, but should make some form of recovery. Elliot survived his attack, as did Jennifer. Hank and Deborah managed to survive unscathed, as did Jeffrey. And you and your partner survived, although not without injury,” he said glancing at her.

  “And that was my fault, too,” she whispered. She’d shot Ryan. She’d been horrified when she’d realized she’d injured her lover. Yes, damn it, lover. She loved him. Sure, there were times since then that she’d been tempted to shoot him again, but over all, she was dismayed that she’d hurt him.

  “These people were fully intent, and capable, of doing more damage. You and Ryan stopped them. You have nothing to feel bad about, Vicky.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. “The Maxwells are sick and twisted individuals. Our job isn’t to take responsibility for their evil deeds, Vicky. Our job is to stop them from doing any more. You did your job. Ryan gave you a glowing report. He actually said that he’d be proud to have you as a partner.”

  Her eyes widened. “He did? I shot him.”

  Reese’s lips quirked. “His words were ‘you did what you did to get the job done.’ And you got the job done.”

  Vicky sat back. Huh. Ryan had praised her. Had even offered to work with her again in the field. He finally saw her as something more than a “travel coordinator” and she wanted to go back behind the desk. Maybe...? No. Just the thought of going through another experience like what had happened at Ultima Resort was enough to start her shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry, Reese. I can’t. I feel out of control out there. I want to feel in control, coordinating from behind the scenes.”

  Reese nodded and made a note on his file. “I understand. If you ever change your mind, talk to me.”

  She nodded, relieved her boss was so understanding, particularly as she’d lobbied hard for the field agent role in the first place.

  Reese held the file over the desk and smiled. “Welcome back.” She grinned back at him and rose
from the chair to take the folder.

  “Thank you, Reese.” She left the room, still limping, but grinning from ear to ear.

  * * *

  “No, thank you, Vicky,” Reese murmured, rubbing his hands together. Mal had taken on Vicky’s role while she’d been up at the resort, and quite frankly, he was driving everybody crazy.

  He leaned back in his chair. Vicky was back to managing operations. Everything would return to normal. It had been a risk, letting her go out on a mission. He knew she’d be safe with Ryan. Everyone knew Ryan would sacrifice his right hand for Vicky. He chuckled softly. He almost had.

  Reese was still impressed with Vicky’s success on the mission. Sure, he wouldn’t have let her do it if he’d thought she couldn’t cope, but she’d handled herself very well. The risk had been that she wouldn’t come back to the office. And if that had been the case, Reese would have accepted it, and given her his blessing.

  Instead he could move Mal out of that post. His temporary assistant had started to snarl at clients. And his coffee sucked. And Noah—well, Noah had nearly come to blows with him over some logistics issue.

  Yep, everything could return to normal. Well, almost normal. Ryan was still recuperating. Reese chuckled. Drew had told him about the incident. They were having baseball caps made. Speaking of Ryan...

  He glanced at his watch and frowned. He had to go.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Vicky shuffled items around on her desk, frowning. Did Mal have a system here? For the life of her, she couldn’t figure it out.

  “Come on, Vicky, it will do you good,” Maggie urged, leaning against her desk.

  “Yeah, you need a break after what you’ve been through,” Jessica said softly, her blonde bob gleaming as she nodded.

  Vicky sighed and looked up at her friends. “I’m just not in the mood.”

  “It’s a Christmas party. It will put you in the mood,” Maggie said. “Besides, one in four people hook up at an office Christmas party.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Ryan might be there.”

  Jessica turned to her. “One in four? Are you sure?”

  Maggie nodded. “Yep.”

  Vicky shook her head. “I’m not in a party mood.” Hell. That would be hell, going to another work Christmas party and have Ryan there, slinging his arm around her shoulders and calling her the F word.

  Maggie narrowed her eyes. “But you’re the party queen. Sure, Mal organized this one, so who knows how it’s going to pan out, but you’ll have a good time. I promise.”

  Jessica held up a hand. “It’s okay, Vicky, if you don’t want to go. Especially after all you’ve been through.” She shushed Maggie as she started to protest. “If you don’t want to come, you shouldn’t come. Such a pity, though, because I found this dress that would look absolutely awesome on you.”

  Vicky cocked an eyebrow. “Are you trying to bribe me, Jess?”

  Noah’s fiancée shook her head. “No, reward maybe. Provide incentive, possibly. Bribe, no.” She shuddered. “It’s such an unsavory term.”

  Vicky smiled as she looked between the two beautiful and fiercely loyal women. She was lucky to count them as friends. “The answer is still no.”

  Jessica pouted.

  “Don’t you want to see Ryan?” Maggie asked bluntly.

  Vicky gasped, and this time Jessica nudged Maggie. “I don’t know what you mean.” She didn’t want to talk about it. It was humiliating. It was painful. She’d lost her heart to a man who couldn’t see her as more than a friend. One day, when she could tell them without bursting into tears, she might confide. But that day wasn’t today.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Maggie stated. “Everybody knows you and Ryan have this...thing. How did it go?”

  Vicky covered her face with her free hand. “What do you mean, everybody knows?”

  “What she means, Vicky, is that we’re your friends, we care about you, and we notice...things. Like how you look at him. And how he looks at you.”

  Vicky peered up at them through the cracks between her fingers. “I think I want to die.”

  Maggie grimaced. “So it didn’t go very well, then, huh?”

  Vicky lowered her face to the desk, caving. “No, it was the most humiliating experience.”

  She felt someone pat her uninjured shoulder. Must be Jessica. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

  Vicky sat up, waving her hand to cool her cheeks. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  Maggie frowned. “Maybe he did something wrong. You know, lots of men have issues with impotency. Although I wouldn’t have expected Ryan to have to deal with it.”

  “Maggie,” Jessica gasped, swiping her gently on the arm.

  Maggie nodded. “Sorry, you’re right. The term is erectile dysfunction.”

  Vicky gaped at her. “Uh, no. No, Ryan doesn’t have an issue with erectile dysfunction.” No, siree, no problem there.

  “So what is the problem?”

  “He still sees me as a friend,” Vicky said, sighing. She shoved a stack of pens into the top drawer of her desk and slammed it shut.

  It was Jessica’s turn to frown. “Did you wear that negligee I packed for you?”

  Maggie turned to her. “You packed a negligee for her? Oh, good move,” she said, and gave her a gentle high five.

  “Yes, I wore the negligee,” Vicky admitted.

  Jessica smiled. “Did it work?”

  Vicky’s cheeks blazed as she looked down at the desk. She wasn’t going to talk about that.

  Maggie clapped her hands. “Oh, it worked.”

  “And then we went back to being friends,” Vicky told them.

  Jessica sighed. “Honey, there is no way he’s going to think of you as just a friend after wearing that nightgown. He’s going to remember that. Trust me.”

  “Look, come to the party. Even if it’s just for a little while. Please. I need to celebrate, and I want you there,” Maggie told her.

  Vicky lifted her gaze to her friend. “Celebrate? Celebrate what?”

  Maggie smiled, gazing between the two women. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic news,” Vicky exclaimed, and left her seat to hobble around the desk and give her friend a one-armed hug. Jessica was jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

  “Oh, that’s so wonderful, Maggie. How far along are you?”

  Maggie grimaced. “Only ten weeks, but I’ve been so sick, we didn’t see the point in trying to hide it from you guys.”

  Vicky beamed. She was truly happy for her friend. Maggie held up a finger at her.

  “So now you really must come to the party with us.”

  Vicky rolled her eyes. “You are going to be fabulous mother, you’ve already got the guilt trip thing down pat.” She nodded. “Of course I’ll come.” She’ll just have to nod politely if she saw Ryan, and act as though her heart was still in one piece.

  Mal rounded the corner of the hall, carrying a box, and frowned as he approached them. “Hey, what are you doing to my desk?”

  Vicky drew back from Maggie and arched an eyebrow. “I believe it’s my desk now.”

  Mal fumbled with the box, as though he’d lost his grip for a moment. He took a step closer. “Seriously?”

  Vicky nodded. “Seriously. I’m taking over operations, effective immediately.”

  Mal placed the box on her desk and hugged her gently, careful not to squeeze her injured arm. “Oh, thank God. I love you. I don’t know how you do it. Noah was driving me crazy, and sometimes the clients want the most ridiculous things, and Reese doesn’t like my coffee—but that was kind of intentional—and all the paperwork. I thought I’d never see daylight again.” He stepped back, his eyes wide. “But I don’t really love you. Well, I do, but not like that, it’s
just that I don’t have to do this thankless job anymore and I get to go have fun and shoot things and blow things up. I’ve really missed that.”

  Vicky nodded slowly. “O-kay.” She looked at the box. “What’s that?”

  He grabbed the box and clutched it to his chest. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. It’s...mine.” He started to back away toward the bank of elevators. “Er, so, I’ll see you ladies at the Christmas party, yeah?” He pointed at each of them. “And you are going to enjoy it, damn it. I put a lot of effort into this one.”

  Maggie cleared her throat. Mal winced.

  “Okay, I put a lot of effort into finding a party planner. Pick a color theme? Puh-leeze.”

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Mal stepped inside. “7:00 p.m. sharp, ladies,” he called as the doors slid closed.

  Vicky eyed the elevator. “That was...weird. Even for Mal.”

  Maggie scoffed. “Oh, no. That was close to normal. You should have seen him trying to do your job. That was weird. I think everyone around here has a newfound appreciation for everything you do.”

  Vicky forced a smile. It would be nice if Ryan would find that newfound appreciation. “Thanks,” she said instead.

  Jessica lifted a shopping bag and gave it to her. It had the discrete logo of a classy boutique located in Chicago’s Magnificent Mile district. “Here is that dress. Wear it.”

  Vicky gaped as she took the bag, eyeing the logo. “I can’t, Jess,” she whispered.

  Jessica smiled. “Yes, you can. I added it to Reese’s bill for your wardrobe on this mission.” She entwined her arm through Maggie’s, and both women strolled to the elevator.

  “Shall we go make ourselves beautiful, Mrs. Fletcher?”

  “Why, let’s, Ms. Soon-To-Be Samuels.”