Carrington was still angry, his body still shaking with fury. He wouldn’t look at me now. He was pacing again, dragging his fingers through his hair over and again. He kept shaking his head like that was enough, like he was trying to convince someone other than me that this wasn’t right, that it wasn’t happening. I’d never seen him quite like this.
“We need to know why he’s after you. It’s the only way we’ll be able to stop any more attacks on you.”
He spun around. “He’s going to try again? I thought you said he was arrested!”
“He was. But you know how Mahoney works. He always has a backup plan.”
He had to agree with that, though clearly reluctantly. He pushed his hands into his pockets again, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “What if we left town? What if we took an extended vacation?”
I tilted my head slightly. “Unless you plan to have someone take out Mahoney and his top lieutenants, I don’t think that would do any good. He’s clearly got beef against you for some reason. The only way to stop him is to figure out what it is.”
“And how’s that going to help?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. But it’ll give us an advantage.”
Carrington turned away from me like the sight of me disgusted him. He began to pace again.
“Is this why you’ve been gone all this time?” he asked after a few minutes.
“I was gone working a case. I told you that.”
“But not this one?”
“Not directly.”
He continued to pace, not seeming to want to calm down. I waited, curling up there on the couch, suddenly feeling chilled by the change in atmosphere. He finally stopped and faced me once more, his eyes more so on the floor than on me.
“What now?”
“There’s an FBI agent—Mike Spencer—who wants to interview you. He’s hoping he can help you jar your memory, maybe figure out what you know that Mahoney’s trying to stop you from revealing.”
He nodded. “I’ll talk to him, but only if you promise me this won’t happen again. You won’t allow our children to be in the line of fire again.”
“Carrington, there was never any danger to the girls. Do you really think I would have allowed the operation to go down if there was?”
“Promise me!”
There was a finality to his tone that frightened me a little. I nodded, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.
***
Mike was waiting when we arrived at the FBI office in Los Angeles. He was careful not to look at me as I introduced him to Carrington, his smile professional, as was his firm handshake. I watched as he took Carrington into an interrogation room, waiting until the door was closed before walking around to the observation room.
Carrington was settled in a chair, watching Mike move around as he set up a voice recorder as well as a video camera. He was taking every precaution, trying to make this as painless as possible, but still get all the information he could. There was something in Carrington’s eyes that bothered me a little as he watched Mike, but I put it down to nerves.
I probably should have known better.
After Carrington turned down a soda, Mike sat across from him and cleared his throat.
“I’d like to begin by verifying some personal information, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Carrington waved his hand, his eyes still tight on Mike’s face.
“You are Carrington Matthews, owner of Matthews’ Shipping, correct?”
“I am.”
“And last year you were involved in the operation that led to the arrest of Jack Mahoney, several of his lieutenants, and multiple other accomplices, correct?”
“I was.”
“And you’re here now of your free will to discuss the events of last year?”
“I am.”
Mike glanced at a pad of paper in front of him before saying the next bit.
“Your wife is Joss Matthews, head of operations at the Santa Monica office of Gray Wolf Security?”
“She is.”
“Just today she informed you of an attempt on your life that was foiled with her cooperation by this office?”
Carrington tilted his head. I could see the anger snapping in his eyes again. “You were part of that operation?”
Mike looked up, clearly caught off guard by the question. “I was,” he said after a second’s hesitation.
“You and my wife have been working closely together on this?”
Mike tensed, glancing over his shoulder at the one-way mirror through which he knew I was watching. Carrington’s eyes flashed to the mirror, too.
“Is there something going on between you and my wife I should know about?”
The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. I pressed my hand against the mirror, my heart pounding as it screamed for me to do something to deny this accusation. But there was also this little spark of hope that suddenly ignited in my chest.
Did he really care enough to notice the way Mike was with me?
“Mr. Matthews, I can assure you my relationship with your wife is strictly professional. We are only interested in stopping Jack Mahoney from following through on his attempt on your life.”
Carrington looked at the mirror again for a long second. Anger still sparked in his eyes.
“I’d prefer to do this with another agent. And I’d rather my wife wasn’t on the other side of the mirror while we talk. Can that be arranged?”
Mike hesitated, but then he nodded. He quickly shut off the electronic devices and left the room, appearing in the small room where I was a second later.
“Joss, I—”
“It’s not you, Mike. He’s pissed and he’s scared. Can you really blame him?”
Could I?
I’d once shut everyone I loved out of my life. I believed I was such a bad person that I couldn’t stand to see affection in anyone’s eyes. I wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t even attempt to engage. Only Kirkland…why wasn’t Kirkland here when I needed him?
Suddenly, I was convinced I was losing everything all over again.
Chapter 25
Shaw
One month later…
I was surprised to get her call, and even more surprised to see her smile as I approached. She stood and offered an embrace even though we’d barely exchanged a dozen words at our first—and last—meeting.
“You look so much better, Shaw.”
I touched my shoulder, showing her with a little movement that it was completely healed. “The doctors say I should be as good as new very soon.”
“That’s good. I was concerned when you insisted on leaving so soon after I sewed you up.”
Mrs. Bailey’s knowing blue eyes moved slowly over my face, taking in things that I wasn’t sure I wanted her to see. A waiter walked up and she waved him away, clearly not interested in the lunch she’d invited me to share with her.
“Malik quit his job,” she informed me, still watching me closely.
I’d known that. I’d called the hotel a few times, hoping to hear his voice, to get an explanation for his sudden disappearance in San Diego. But he was gone before I’d thought of it.
She adjusted her silverware, rubbing a water spot off a tine of her fork. “He took a job with a larger hotel here in Los Angeles. He said it was time for a change. I think it had more to do with you, though.”
“Why me?”
“Because he’s having trouble getting over you.”
I blushed, my heart soaring as I realized those were exactly the words I’d come here to hear. But as good as it felt to hear them, they sounded hallow even to my ears.
“How do you know that?”
She shrugged. “I know my boy.”
I shook my head. “Things happened in Mexico,” I said softly, not sure she knew everything that had gone down that night.
“I know. He told me some of it, but not all.”
I doubted that he’d told his mother he’d killed a man. But I knew that’s what had driven
him away from me, what had forced him out of that hotel room that night. He couldn’t look at me and not see what he’d done.
Killing another human being was not an easy thing to get over. I still saw the face of the first man I’d killed. It was a justified shooting, done to protect my fellow soldiers, but that didn’t change the mark it’d left on my soul.
I knew Malik was struggling with what he’d done. That’s why I hadn’t wanted him there in the first place. Not only was there the danger to his safety, but living with what we’d had to do that night…it wasn’t right to put that on someone’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking across the table at this kind woman who’d helped me without question just because her son had asked her to. “I never meant for any of it to happen.”
“I know.” She reached over and touched my hand. “But you saved a young woman from a terrible death. That’s admirable, Shaw.”
And cost myself the first chance at true happiness I’d ever known.
I picked up the water glass next to my plate and took a sip, my throat so closed up that I was afraid for a moment I wasn’t going to be able to swallow it. She was still watching me with that knowing look in her eyes.
“When I was about your age, I met a man I knew was the one man I was meant to love. He was handsome and charming, a kind man who wouldn’t have hurt a fly. And when he looked at me, my heart crawled into my throat and refused to leave. I just…I knew he was the only one. Even when I realized we could never be together, I didn’t care. I was willing to take anything he had to offer.”
“Malik told me about his father.”
“Did he tell you that we’re still legally married here in the states? That I’m still his wife in every meaning of the word despite the distance between us?”
My eyes widened slightly. “No, he didn’t.”
She smiled softly. “Muhammad is a good man. It is his heritage, his family that has kept us apart. And that was something I had to accept about him. But you…” Her smile changed, became sad somehow. “Malik thinks he knows what is best for himself, but it conflicts with what he needs. He needs you to show him the truth.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
Mrs. Bailey signaled for the waiter to return then. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
***
I was on a case, hunting down some rich guy’s stalker. Another operative was playing bodyguard, but I was chasing down the source of threatening emails he’d been receiving. The client suspected the source was a woman he had a one night stand with a few months before, a woman who wasn’t thrilled to find out he was married and had two kids at home. But I’d already ruled her out.
Cheaters. I didn’t get it. Why were they always surprised when their own bad behavior came back to bite them on the ass?
I was following up on a lead. The emails had been traced back to a computer available to guests of a Los Angeles hotel. I was perched on a stool in front of the computer, scrolling through the browser history for the week the first email had been sent. There was a surprisingly large amount of history on the computer. I wondered if people realized just how much information they left behind when they paid their bills or emailed their lovers on a public computer.
People were coming and going all around me. The computer was in an alcove of the lobby, stuck behind a long privacy wall, but not enclosed. I could hear footsteps and snatches of conversation, but I couldn’t see anyone. It was all just background noise until one voice cut in through the noise.
“Of course, Mrs. Jenner. I will have the concierge set that up immediately.”
My heart jumped into my throat. I told myself it was just my imagination. What were the chances that this was the hotel he’d come to work for? His mother had tried to give me that information, but I threw it away without looking at it. He’d left me. He’d made his choice. Who was I to try to force him to change his mind?
But it certainly sounded like him.
I forced myself to concentrate on what I was doing, printing off the pertinent information. I grab the paper from the printer and strode out of the alcove, almost believing the confidence I was attempting to exude. The information I’d found was coded by the guest’s room number. I’d need to ask the front desk for the name of the person who’d been in that particular room on that particular day. The little clerk, a dark haired girl who was clearly just out of high school, had given me the key card that would allow me on the computer, so she knew what I wanted as I approached the desk again.
“You’ll have to talk to the manager for that information,” she said as I set the printout on the counter.
“Is your manager around?”
“He just went upstairs to help a guest, but he’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you want to wait in his office?”
“Sure.”
I stood in the middle of the room, too agitated to sit. I tugged at the short skirt of my business suit, feeling completely out of place in this get up. But I’d discovered that dressing this way tended to be a little more conducive to getting information out of people—especially the male species—in this type of business-oriented situation. Joss had actually taken me shopping, laughing at the awkward way in which I’d walked in the first pair of heels she’d picked out for me. We both decided I’d be better off in flats.
The door opened and I spun around, polite words of greeting on the tip of my tongue. I’d expected some portly old man, someone in his late forties or early fifties, someone I could easily charm into giving me guest information that tended to be sacred in a hotel of this stature. But instead of some older stranger I could charm, I found myself face to face with Malik Bailey.
So it was his voice I’d heard!
“What the hell?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Hello to you, too.”
He walked nonchalantly around his desk as if meeting with me in his office was a regular occurrence and not a complete shock. He sat quite calmly and rested his elbows on the desk, regarding me over his steepled fingers.
Did he not realize who I was? Did I really look that different in this getup?
“What can I do for you, Shaw?”
I tilted my head, regarding him with both shock and wonder.
What the hell?
Words jumped to my lips, things I had to fight from giving voice to. I studied his face, those familiar eyes with their heavy fringe of lashes. I wanted to touch him so badly that my palms actually itched. I had to turn away, had to break eye contact with him before I said something I shouldn’t.
“I need information on a guest,” I mumbled finally.
“Excuse me?”
I glanced at him. Glared, more like it.
“I need information.”
“I assumed so.”
He wasn’t making this easy and that pissed me off even more. I took the printout I’d gotten from the computer and slammed it down on his desk.
“I need information on this guest.”
He barely glanced at the paper. “You have a warrant, I presume.”
I grunted, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. “Do I look like a fucking cop?”
He actually smiled at that. “Temper, temper.”
I shook my head, stepping back from the desk before I did something I might regret. “You haven’t seen my temper yet.”
“Oh?”
“How can you sit there and be so damn calm? After everything that happened, how can you—?”
I stopped because I didn’t want to sound like a lovelorn teenager. I wasn’t about to beg this man to come back to me. If he didn’t want me, that was his prerogative. I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself trying to convince him to change his mind. I had more dignity than that.
“Will you give me the information or not?”
He picked up the piece of paper and pretended to study it. Then he set it back down and studied me, his eyes briefly moving over my bare legs that were visible below my skirt. I pulled at t
he skirt, trying to make it longer, hating the way he was making me feel.
“What is this guest accused of?”
“Stalking one of our clients.”
He inclined his head. “So, you still work for Gray Wolf?”
That caught me slightly off guard. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugged. “You seemed concerned about your future there before.”
“Before? You mean when we last saw each other? When we were lovers?”
That got a slight reaction out of him. Color flooded his cheeks briefly and his eyes fell to the top of the desk. He cleared his throat and stood, moving around the desk on his way to the door. I stepped into his path, not sure what my intention was. But I wasn’t quite ready for him to leave.
“I need to go speak to our lawyers.”
“I’m not going to ask you to come back to me,” I said, raising a hand to touch his chest, but stopping myself as my hand came within inches of the center of his pristine shirt. “I get that that ship has sailed. But I think I deserve to know why. Why you would just leave in the middle of the night like that.”
Those eyes grazed over me again, that look like a caress against my skin. It made every nerve in my body suddenly come alive, my lower belly remembering what his touch was like and waking to the prospect of feeling that way again. The body and the brain were so rarely on the same track, weren’t they?
“I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation,” he said quietly.
“Inappropriate? Or too uncomfortable?”
Instead of answering, he tried to move around me, but I sidestepped, moving back into his path. He sighed heavily, that dark gaze back on my eyes.
“I should really go discuss this with our lawyers.”
“Just answer the question, Malik, and I’ll go. You can deal with someone else from our office.”
He shrugged his shoulders, moving the fabric of his expensive suit just slightly. “I realized I wasn’t cut out for all the drama. I didn’t want to be a part of the chaos that is your life.”
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