He stepped into the suite, set his hand on the back of the door and pushed it closed, lingering for a minute before he turned around. Suck this up.
Thankfully, Kristen spoke first. “Were you downtown all this time?”
“Yeah. Lots of questions. Mike and Vic did some fast talking and it looks like Monk, Bobby and I are clear. Wilson helped. He’s jazzed about my surveillance. He needs to figure out a way to make it all admissible.”
“Good. It would be pathetic if, after all you’d done, you were prosecuted.”
He gestured to the couch. “Can I sit?”
“Sure.”
Not exactly an enthusiastic answer. He shook his head, flicked the fingers of one hand against the other. “If I had known, if I could hit rewind, I’d have never gone after Murphy today. I would have done what you said and let the cops handle it.”
Kristen settled into the cushions, half turning to him. “Is that true? Be honest. For both our sakes. From what Wilson told me earlier, you scared Murphy into flipping on Reed Davis. That’s a big deal.”
Billy shrugged. “Wilson is keeping it close, but from what I could figure, Davis was smuggling cars to the Middle East, via the Port of Miami. Your Aston was on its way to have a temporary gas tank installed. They drain the gas tank, insert the tubes we found in the trunk and then put enough gas in the temporary tank to transport the vehicle.”
“They hide the tubes in the gas tank?”
Billy nodded.
“Who thinks of this?”
“Career criminals.”
“So, Reed is making money on the cars and the tubes?”
“Yep. He’s an expat with contacts overseas. It’s a whole network he’s got going. Wilson is hot on checking other major ports to see if he’s running the same deal there.”
Kristen shook her head and Billy let her absorb the info dump. Finally, he sat forward, propped his elbows on his knees and linked his fingers together. “How pissed are you?”
“It’s not about being mad. Not anymore. I’m sad. Heartbroken actually. Your lifestyle is not good for me. When I saw Reed Davis rushing out of the hotel today, I knew I was at a crossroads. I could either follow the advice I’d given you to let the police handle it and risk him fleeing, or I could follow him. Plus, I was worried about you going after the lawyer. I went against my own edict and followed Reed. I could have gotten us all killed.”
“You didn’t know.”
She pressed his hands between hers and, as sure as he was sitting here, he knew this might be the last time she ever touched him. He drew a breath and ignored another kick to the gut. This is what it felt like to want a woman he couldn’t have.
She didn’t want him.
“That’s not the point,” she said.
“Yeah, I get it. I distract you. I make you do things you wouldn’t normally do. Does that have to be a bad thing?”
“It does when it fuels stupidity on my part.”
“Ouch,” he said for the second time since seeing her and it was starting to piss him off.
She backed away.
“How about credit for getting you out of your own head for a while? Do I get a bonus for that? Anything? Because, hell, Kristen, I think that should be worth something.”
“Of course it’s worth something. But let’s be realistic. What is it that we have? I run a hotel that requires constant attention. I own property here and have roots. My life is here. You own a camera and fly off to do who knows what.” She waved her arms. “You’re life is out there. In the world.”
“Not always.”
She shook her head. “I learned one thing today. I cannot sit here while you come and go. My life cannot revolve around you dropping in every once in a while. Worse, I’ll never know when you’ll be back or for how long. I’ll never know if you’ve been hurt or even if you’ll come back. That will destroy me. I can’t have it.”
His mind raced with bottled frustration and he stood.
Never had he shared such emotional intimacy with a woman, and she was reducing it to a couple of good lays? Unacceptable. He paced the room, waving one hand in the air, hoping something worthwhile would pop into his brain.
“So, that’s it? The past eleven days have been a good time and we part friends never to see or speak to each other again?”
“Billy—”
“Hang on.” He stopped pacing, checked himself on what he was about to say and stuck his hands in his front pockets. “That doesn’t work for me.”
“What?”
“I think you’re scared and well, breaking news here, me too. It’s been a hell of a few days. Maybe we need to take time and let all this Reed Davis crap unwind. I’m expected in Chicago tomorrow, but I want to come back here after that. I’ve been thinking about this all week and I want to spend time with you. Take a damned vacation for once. I can do that here. I love this place. I love you.”
Greetings to the big asshole who, in the course of getting dumped, proclaimed his love. How freaking pathetic.
Screw that.
So what? He’d said it. And meant it. They didn’t call him Mr. Relentless for nothing.
Kristen rose from the couch. “You love me?”
The dripping sarcasm he’d pass on. “Yes. I do. In case you’re wondering, I’ve never said that to a woman outside of my family. I don’t throw those words around.”
Not ever. Not even to get laid. Some things were sacred.
Kristen came closer, wrapped her hands around his. “I believe you don’t throw them around. And I also believe you think you love me.”
“I think?” Had she been sneaking the scotch? “I know what I feel, Kristen. I respect your opinions, but don’t tell me what I feel.”
“I’m not doing that. I’m being honest and you’re the king of truth, so believe me when I say you and I will not work. That’s the truth for me. It won’t work.”
She was tossing him. Crap. Normally, he’d happily skip out the door for dodging the I-want-a-relationship bullet. This time though, he was the one shooting. “If you ask me, I’d say we’re a great match. You work constantly. When I’m gone, you won’t have to feel guilty because I’m distracting you. Then when I’m here, we’ll spend as much time together as we can. Why can’t we compromise?”
“On what? I just told you it’s not going to work.”
“Yeah, I heard, but why do we have to make any decisions right now. Let me go back to Chicago and talk to Vic. If you don’t want me here, I’ll stay there, but I’ll call you in a couple of days. Backing away from a situation brings clarity. Let’s get clarity and talk about this again. Can we do that?”
Silence.
Crap.
She held her palm out, opened her mouth and closed it again before dropping her hand.
Maybe he had a shot.
“No.”
Tap out.
Game over.
Sure, he could argue with her. Do his Mr. Relentless routine and schmooze her, but why? If she didn’t want him, he wasn’t going to beg. And didn’t that truly suck?
He took a step closer, slipped two fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. “I understand. I’m sorry though. You’ll never know how much, but if you want me gone, I’m gone.”
She wouldn’t look him in the eye, but she nodded. “I don’t want you gone. I just think it’s best.”
And that was that. He’d give her time. Let her think about it. He stepped back. “Call me if you want to talk, okay?”
Then he dropped a quick kiss on her, turned his back and walked out on the woman who had enthralled him on sight. A woman who captured his interest like no other and who would probably take a lifetime to get over.
* * *
After a bleeping long traffic-snarled ride in a city where the temperature would cap out at a whopping seventeen degrees, Billy walked into his boss’s office. Vic sat behind a battered oak desk that held various stacks of papers, books, sticky notes and general crap that the guy probably hadn’t looke
d at in a year.
“Sit,” he said.
After dropping into one of the guest chairs, Billy rested his hands on his thighs and waited. This would be yet another unsavory experience to top off the string of misery hounding him. The minute he’d left South Beach the ache inside him expanded.
Three times he’d told the driver to stop, but then, not wanting to hound Kristen into giving him another shot, he’d told the driver to keep going.
Maybe when the reality of the day before wore off, she’d be more willing to listen. He hoped.
Vic eyed him. “I sent you to South Beach on a multitasked op. You were supposed to control that goddamn mouth of yours and learn some responsibility. Instead, you got mixed up in a car-theft ring that—low and behold—is smuggling titanium alloy sleeves used for Iran’s nuclear weapons program. I mean kill me now, Billy.”
Billy held up his hands. “I didn’t know about the sleeves. All I knew was a client had problems with car thefts. I thought I could help. And besides, I helped bust up that nuclear weapons sh—ship. Maybe give me some credit for being a good operator?”
“I’ll give you that. But becoming gator bait creates a problem.”
“That was an isolated incident.”
“That’s the fucking problem. They’re all isolated incidents.”
“Not anymore. I’m better.”
Vic shook his head.
“Hey, I’ll never be perfect. My mind doesn’t work that way, but I’m learning to filter. Plus, well, there’s something about South Beach. It relaxes me.”
His mind went back to walking along the shore with Kristen. The eccentricity of South Beach made him feel like he belonged there. With her.
Not that it could happen now. She had vamoosed him. Told him to go scratch his ass.
If nothing else, he had learned some filtering skills. Yep, Kristen had taught him some lessons in humility. He was thankful for that, but yearned for a better ending.
“Right,” Vic said. “And Kristen Dante doesn’t hurt.”
He knew.
“Monk?”
“Her father. For some fucked up reason, the man likes you.”
The old man inquired about him. Not a bad sign. “What’d you tell him?”
“That you were a royal pain in the ass and I have to check my blood pressure every time I send you on an op.”
“Seriously?”
Vic waved him off. “I told him you were square.”
“You vouched for me?”
“If I didn’t, I’d look like the putz who hired an asshole, wouldn’t I?”
“Good point. Thank you, though.”
“Don’t make me a liar.”
“No, sir.”
Might be too late.
Vic set his giant hand on a manila folder on his desk. “We got your passport renewed. You ready for an overseas assignment?”
Yes. He still had the job he loved.
“Absolutely.”
“It’s Afghanistan. Six-week gig. You leave Friday.”
“I’m ready. No problems. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Vic raised his eyebrows.
“Well,” Billy said. “Let’s not expect miracles.”
Vic laughed and it was the laugh of acceptance. The laugh of olden days. The laugh that assured Billy he still belonged.
He sat forward. “Listen, if I stay out of trouble, is there a problem with me squatting in South Beach between assignments? Like Monk is doing in Jersey.”
“You’re using Monk as your precedent?”
“Is it working?”
“No. He’s responsible and not messing with a client’s daughter. If you fuck her over, Tom Dante will not be happy. You could cost us this account.”
Billy shook his head. “Not gonna happen. She’s different. Smart and sexy and patient. Turns out, her experience dealing with her crazy sister is good for me. She doesn’t freak when I say something inappropriate. She just calls me on my crap and we move on. Right now she’s not sure about me, so, yeah, I want to spend time in South Beach and see what happens. I need you to sign off though.”
“And you won’t piss me off and make me fire you?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You won’t jerk me around and get lost when I need you on an assignment?”
Now that was offensive. “Have I ever done that?”
“No. But South Beach in the winter and a sexy woman were never involved.”
“True. But it’s not an issue. She works night and day. She’d go crazy with me around all the time.”
Vic shook his head back and forth.
“I can do this,” Billy said.
“Here’s the deal.”
Score.
“We’ll try it. The first time you don’t return my call in a reasonable amount of time, I’m hauling your ass back here. If I even think you’re going half-cocked down there, I will haul your ass back here. If you piss Tom Dante off, I will haul your ass back here. Are we clear?”
Billy nodded.
“Fine. You’re going to Afghanistan on Friday. What you do between now and then is your business.” Billy stood, but Vic held up a hand. “By the way, good work down there. This guy wasn’t even on their radar and you nailed him. That’s why I hired you. Your instincts are dead on. Maybe this South Beach thing got you focused again. Either way, you made yourself, and this company look good.”
Oh, oh, oh, the former big-mouthed-unfiltered Billy would have been all over this action. Ragging on Vic for being a pansy and talking all nicey-nice. Billy grinned. He may have gotten better at filtering, but he was still himself and the idea of walking away from this conversation without commenting on this love fest would kill him. He’d just water it down some. “Boss, are you proud of me?”
Vic cracked up. “Billy, I think I am.”
That ache inside him? It let up some. Billy stood there, his pansy meter climbing into the red because he didn’t actually mind hearing Vic was proud of him. These past weeks had been a brutal assault of self-doubt. A couple of weeks ago he thought he was about to get canned and now his boss was proud of him. Maybe, if he got lucky, he could go back to South Beach and have Kristen feel the same way.
Billy extended his hand. “Let’s not tell anyone about this.”
* * *
Kristen sat on the bed in her suite staring at the lone pair of Billy’s Diesel jeans still strewn across the chair. He’d been gone less than twenty-four hours and here she was, in the middle of her workday, hiding in her suite because not only was her heart broken, she didn’t have it in her to remove those damned pants from her sight. She’d known from the beginning that getting involved with him, on any level, would be trouble. Disastrous even. Dealing with her sister was enough. She couldn’t have Billy coming and going from her life too.
Not if this damned weepiness was the result. Weepiness she hadn’t expected. Maybe she should have done what he’d asked and taken a few days to think about it. She had certainly never expected to miss him this much. To feel like the air had vanished from her world. He may have been high-maintenance, but he made her laugh.
And he’d given her a gift…self-acceptance. Of her body, but more than that, self-acceptance of her life and its constant demands.
She glanced at the stupid jeans again and slapped her hands over her eyes. Of course, her cell phone rang. They can’t even leave me alone for a good cry. She wiped her eyes, drew two breaths and snatched her phone from the bed.
“This is Kristen.”
“Ms. Dante, this is Eddie. Can you come down to the valet stand? I have a situation.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Uh, gotta go, ma’am. Please, come down.”
Dammit. It was just as well. She hated pity parties.
Within five minutes, she strode through the lobby doors. The warm air offered comfort and relieved some of her misery. She really needed to make more time to get outside during the day. Particularly now, when she needed to figure out h
ow to heal her ruptured heart.
A car entered the circular drive and the second valet leaped to deal with it. Outside of the few pedestrians entering the hotel, all seemed quiet.
“What’s the problem, Eddie?”
He pointed to a giant red pickup. “Someone needs to see you.”
“You called me down here because someone needs to see me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This was the hospitality industry. “Any idea what the problem is?
“No, ma’am.”
Terrific.
She plastered a smile on and headed down the drive in her stupid stilt heels. On her approach, a man slid out of the truck.
Billy. He’s back.
Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but the happiness exploding around her couldn’t be ignored.
She stopped in front of him, unable to control her smile. “Hi.”
He held his hand to the truck. “What do you think?”
Okay. She’d play. She turned and studied the truck. “Um, it’s big. And quite red. Whose is it?”
“It’s mine.”
“Yours?”
“Yep.”
She pointed at him. “You bought.” She pointed at the truck. “This truck?”
He grinned. “Yes.”
This from the man who didn’t own anything but his fancy camera. He’d be one of five people in South Beach with a pickup. A red one to boot. “Why?”
“I was hoping you’d keep an eye on it while I was in Afghanistan for six weeks.”
What? “Pardon?”
He smacked a hand on the side of the truck. “Yep. My first grown-up purchase. I got to Chicago last night—it’s damned cold there by the way—and there I was, freezing my nuts off at the airport while some chick tried to flirt with me and all I could think about was how fast I could get back to you.”
“Billy—”
He shot a hand up. “Yeah, no talking. My turn.”
Okay.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly as shocked as she was over her silence.
“Leaving here yesterday tore me up. It went against everything I know. All I wanted was to park myself in front of you and badger you into giving me another chance. I controlled myself though. Decided I’d give you a couple days, let things settle down. When I got to Chicago, I talked to Vic. We’re square. That meant a lot to me. My job is safe again. Hell, he even told me I did good.”
Adrienne Giordano Page 29