Playing Dirty

by HelenKay Dimon

  “I need you in the field, going through every inch of that lab and the building.”

  It was shit work and Ward knew it. From the mumbling in the room, West, Lucas, and Reid knew it, too. “So, Josiah gets to walk all over this guy, beat the hell out of him, and we get stuck with the forensic team in a science lab?”

  Josiah laughed. “Works for me.”

  “All of this recon has to be done.” This smelled of busy work to Ford. Alliance didn’t do grunt work. That was the point. Forensics teams could go out and collect evidence. The CIA and MI6 needed Alliance to wade into the action.

  “I think West is right,” Reid said. “We should just shoot this guy.”

  Ward kept his attention on Ford. “That won’t find Trent any faster.”

  “But we’ll feel better.” The words added to the brewing tension, but Ford didn’t care. This issue was too important to back down.

  No one said anything but he got the sense he’d walked into a power struggle of some sort. Could be Ward thought to punish him for the Shay issue. Ford accepted his fuck-­up on that score, but he was in, and no one else was getting near her. Not negotiable.

  Ward nodded. “Your feelings aren’t part of the job.”

  That was the first thing anyone had said that felt like an absolute. “No kidding.”

  “I should get in there before Matt figures out a way to back out of what he’s already told us,” Josiah said as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  “I’ll come with you,” Pearce said as he filed out behind him.

  “Right.” Reid clapped his hands together and gestured for Lucas and West to join the others. “We’ll go suit up for some forensic work.”

  No need for a high IQ for this one. Ford saw the room clear and felt the tension pressing against him. He hadn’t moved but he’d lost ground. Priorities battled inside him. Shay, his need to overcome his past, loyalty to Alliance. The responsibilities crushed him, and he hadn’t even added in the ultimate goal of shutting down a toxic Armageddon.

  Ward waited until they were alone in the room to hit Ford with one of his long suffering exhales. “You sure being pissed off is about Claymore and his lies?”

  A red haze moved in front of Ford’s eyes. “Don’t start.”

  “Maybe you’re stalling so you don’t have to move in on Uncle Anthony.”

  That struck too close to the truth. Not that he gave a shit about Anthony or his business or how he raised his kid, but Ford did care if daddy’s checkbook financed this deadly nonsense. He cared if Shay’s family had somehow dragged her into a catastrophe.

  Hell, he just plain cared about her.

  Still, even in a place like Alliance there existed a small pocket of privacy he should be able to hold onto. “Boss or no, you’re getting close to crossing a line.”

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

  “We have a lead.” Matt and his idiocy.

  “We have many.” Ward picked up a file and held it out to Ford. “Your job is this one, unless you’re ready to bow out.”

  Ford looked down and saw Anthony’s name on the sticker. Recognized the challenge in Ward’s voice and stiff stance.

  Ford grabbed the folder but didn’t open it. Didn’t have to. He had the thing memorized. “I’m ready.”

  Shay entered the alarm code and turned the key to the front door of Ford’s condo. As the building manager she had both, but hadn’t tried to use either up until now. Standing at the threshold, she listened for any sound. The shower or a radio—­something.

  “Ford? Are you in here?” She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  This didn’t count as a condo manager visit. There was nothing official about her showing up here. She could have called but something about wading inside appealed to her. It made her jumpy but she felt compelled to do it anyway.

  “Um, hello?” She walked through the living room, her gaze touring every inch to see if there was anything out of place. “I was thinking instead of takeout we’d go out like normal ­people. It’s called a date, in case you were wondering.”

  As she did every time she came over, she took in the mantel and the coffee table. No personal photos. No bills. No evidence that a human being even lived there. Maybe one of these times he’d surprise her and put up a picture . . . or something.

  She’d been in the sterile environment many times. They’d had dinner there, slept there. He talked about her place being cozier, which was true. She had knickknacks and things she’d collected as she moved through life. She’d always assumed everyone did until she met Ford.

  She opened the closet by the front door and stared inside. Coats, a vacuum. Nothing out of the ordinary. A quick look at the answering machine a few steps away showed zero messages.

  For some reason the absence of life kept her moving and looking. She walked up to the desk in the family room, brushed her fingertips over the edge then looked at the tips. No dust. Everything was clean and in its place. A real estate agent could come in tomorrow and show it.

  “Ford?” She walked back down the hall toward his bedroom.

  Half of her hoped she’d open the door and find an unmade bed. Something human. She tapped on it then pushed. A navy comforter pulled tight and two pillows that looked as if a head hadn’t touched them. He denied the military ser­vice but she continued to see signs everywhere.

  The top drawer of his dresser called. She stood in front of it for what felt like hours with her hand on the knob. Just pull, the little voice in her head kept saying. It wasn’t as if his underwear was all that sacred. She’d seen him in it dozens of times. But he was there at those moments, and her underwear gawking hadn’t been hidden. This was different. The sneaking grated against her.

  Still, her fingers stayed fastened on the knob.

  “One pull and a quick peek.” The room didn’t answer.

  She made a bargain in her head to open and shut it real fast, then backed out a second later. Certain things she could justify, like looking in his fridge and stealing a bottle of water. This was pure snooping.

  She dropped her hand and turned around. Going back out to the main living area, she opened the coat closet a second time, as if something drew her there. Not giving herself time to think about it, she slid a hand into his coat pocket, the black raincoat-­style one she’d seen him wear to cut the morning chill. She patted around and . . . nothing. It didn’t even have the usual collection of lint.

  Not having family photos wasn’t the oddest thing. She repeated that in her head several times, trying to convince herself.

  Ford was sweet and sexy, hot and charming. She enjoyed spending time with him and craved more. When her mind started flipping through memories, she clamped down. Tried to blink out the temptation to rummage through everything.

  Bottom line was Ford Decker liked to live a life with few ties. He didn’t get many bills. He didn’t show any outward signs of caring about other ­people. In short, he was the guy she should have run from. It was a shame her heart had very definite other ideas.

  In one last visual tour of the rooms, she memorized every inch. For the first time in her dating life she missed seeing a guy’s stray sock on the floor. Looking for one thing out of place—­a sign that an actual human lived there—­she failed.

  She felt a twinge of doubt and questions peppered her brain, though not as many as she should have had because Ford wasn’t Devin. She repeated that refrain several times.

  One last look and nothing jumped out at her. Still, she couldn’t kick the nagging sensation that something was very wrong. And this time, her growing concern centered on Ford, not Trent. She just wished she knew why.

  16

  ALL OF Shay’s doubts washed away later that night while she sat across the dinner table from Ford. Well, most of them.

  She ran a finger over t
he shiny silverware and the crisp white tablecloth. A low mumble of conversation and clink of glasses sounded around them in the busy restaurant. Waiters rushed across the hardwood floor and an impressive crystal chandelier hung above her. They occupied a two-­person table in the corner of one of the city’s impossible-­to-­get-­a-­reservation hot spots.

  A fancy chef owned the place, and the reviews called it groundbreaking. Shay wasn’t clear what could be so new and inventive about a steak restaurant but she showed up for the company. The fact that Ford set all of this up on a few hours’ notice qualified as miraculous. So did the suit jacket he wore. No silly tee. He put on dress pants and looked like he’d stepped right out of a high-­powered office . . . only much hotter and absent any douchelike behavior.

  “A nice dinner in a special restaurant.” She twisted the white linen napkin on her lap. “This is a surprise.”

  He smiled at her over the top of his menu. “I got your message.”

  That look, sweet with a mix of the devil, got to her every time. Those knowing glances made her hot and jumpy and ready to peel his clothes right off him. And that was part of her late night plans. She’d worn the black wrap dress for him, counting on him to peel it off her later.

  Her hand ached from her hold on the napkin, so she smoothed it over her legs. “I think I was pretty clear.”

  “Let me see.” He shut one eye as if trying to call up a memory. “I believe the text said, ‘Make a reservation somewhere or else,’ with one of those frown emoticons. It was clear you didn’t want to go back to the burger joint we went to the one other time we went out.”

  “No one ever accused me of being subtle.” Neither was the woman two tables down who kept staring at Ford.

  Shay didn’t blame her. The white shirt showed off his dark hair and those scruffy rough-­and-­tumble looks. She’d almost jumped him in the car on the way over but refrained.

  But the best part was how Ford didn’t appear to notice the leggy blonde. His gaze didn’t wander. He never scanned the place or shot secretive glances at other women. Shay loved that he made her feel as if she were the only woman there, the most beautiful woman in DC. Neither of which were true, but enjoying a few minutes of the being-­wanted sensation warmed the night’s chill right out of her.

  “Subtle or not, you couldn’t be quiet and blend in with that dress.” His gaze dipped to the vee between her breasts. “It makes me want to get the food wrapped up to go.”

  Not happening.

  She’d finally lured him out for a real date and would not cut it short now no matter how delicious he looked and smelled. She held up a finger but stopped right before wagging it. “No.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded then went back to reading the menu.

  The comfortable quiet gave her the opportunity to study him. They had so little downtime, just relaxing. From a few feet away she noticed his lean fingers and strong hands. Clean nails and a sturdy black watch. He was a no-­nonsense guy. Not one to slick back his hair or insist on designer labels.

  But in the universe of what she knew about him, that was about it. The facts were limited to what she could see and the bits he shared, usually as a result of her asking questions on some topic. After the sweep of his condo, getting him to open up had become her sole focus.

  Operation Get to Know the Real Ford started now. It was either that or continue to sort through his stuff when he wasn’t home, and that made her feel crappy and wonder about the kind of woman she was.

  She fiddled with the top of her wineglass but stopped when it made a whistling sound. “Have you seen your sister?”

  “What?” Ford slowly lowered his menu and laid it on the stack of plates in front of him.

  Up until then the conversation had looped around like any other, but for some reason her heartbeat sped up now. Breathless and on edge, she tried to inhale long and deep to calm the rat-­a-­tat-­tat beating through her. “She popped up and then disappeared.”

  “You just described my life with Tasha.” He leaned back in his chair, and apologized when his arm brushed against the older woman behind him. “She goes in and out. It’s her style.”

  Her finger slipped over the side of the glass, following the drip of water down to the base. “Do you ever miss a more normal existence?”

  “Is there something abnormal about the way I live?”

  His expression stayed blank and it made her want to push. To cause a reaction. “You’re never home. You travel all the time and get pulled out of every date, formal or informal, to head to the office.”

  This time he winced. “Uh-­oh, this sounds like a lifestyle lecture.”

  One she didn’t really have the right to launch into. He hadn’t changed. This didn’t count as some kind of bait and switch. He was the same guy with the same priorities as when they started dating. She just yearned for more.

  Only seemed fair if she was falling in love with him that he try to love her back a little.

  Because the one thing she could control was her behavior, and since she had no interest in being the jealous mistrusting type who skulked around and depended on investigators, she spilled her big secret. “I was in your condo today.”

  He put his elbows on the table and leaned in closer. “Did something happen?”

  Not exactly the response she expected. “I don’t understand the question.”

  The waitress picked that moment to swing by. She introduced herself and talked about the specials. Shay was so eager to get back to the conversation that she raced through ordering and practically shooed the woman away.

  Before she could drag them back to the topic, Ford downed the rest of his drink and started in. “Why were you in my place? I mean, you’ve been there before. There’s nothing much to see.”

  She wasn’t really sure how to answer the question so went with what she knew would be viewed as a stall. “Does the idea upset you?”

  He tipped his head from side to side. “I’m not sure.”

  She’d practiced this speech. The guilt had gnawed at her for snooping, but the unease at not knowing him was very real. “I feel weird that I did it, so that’s why I’m admitting it.”

  “See, I get the sense there’s something else happening here, and I don’t—­”

  “Do you have anything you’re trying to hide?” Blurting it out like that . . . well, not her best work. Still, the question hung there and now she wanted an answer.

  “Uh, okay.” His eyes widened and his head shot back. “So, you think I’m keeping another woman across the hall?”

  Cheating managed to be the least of her worries. “Don’t minimize this.”

  “Sorry.” His mood turned more somber and he seemed to straighten up in his chair. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  She rested both hands on the table and picked at the spoon, then the knife . . . then returned her palms to her lap. At least that way she’d keep the visible fidgeting to a minimum.

  “Shay, just tell me.”

  “The secrets.” And now they had the second blurt of the evening.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Trent is locked away and not talking. My uncle is acting odd. You’re in and out to the point where I wonder if you’re keeping a family in another city.” She closed her eyes. When she opened them again Ford sat right there, staring and looking concerned and not being a dick. It was a nice change in the men department.

  “Sounds like this concern has been building for a while.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “No.” He reached across the table and held out his palm until she put hers in his. “Look, there’s no question I’m not good with settling down and checking in. My job has me jumping, and until recently that was fine with me. I’m not used to being accountable to anyone else, but I’m trying.”

  That all sounded good. Kind of warmed her
from the inside out in a girlie reaction she hadn’t felt in . . . forever. “Until recently?”

  “Until I met you.” He did that thing where he cradled her hand in both of his.

  The gesture soothed and inflamed her at the same time. Before him she didn’t know that was even possible. “That kind of talk might make me forget about some of your reclusiveness issues.”

  “I know you want to understand me, but there’s no sob story in my past. My parents are stable and decent. They gave me a good upbringing but it was in the middle of nowhere and my whole life I’ve been looking to break out.” He kept up the steady massage of the back of her hand with his thumb.

  They sat in the middle of all those ­people, but the setting still came off as intimate. A man’s blowhard voice and overly loud laughter floated by her. ­People kept getting up and moving and tables turned over. But she needed him to understand. “Losing my parents the way I did, being a kid, I’ve spent my entire grown-­up life in search of those sort of roots you’re trying to cut.”

  “I guess we have to figure out how to make those two mind-­sets work together.”

  A wave of sadness crashed over her. She’d pushed for this conversation and now part of her regretted it. “Is it possible?”

  “I’m willing to try.” The waitress stepped between them with the salad dishes and he dropped her hand. “Oh, thank you.”

  The pretty brunette returned Ford’s smile. He didn’t flirt but he charmed without trying. It was one of the things Shay loved about him. And the longer she was with him, “love” turned out to be the right word, which is what made the day so surreal. It also scared the crap out of her.

  “What were you looking for?” he asked after a few beats of silence.

  She stopped moving the lettuce around on her plate and put her fork down. “What?”

  “In my condo.”

  “Honestly?” When he nodded and smiled at her, she smiled back. “You.”

  Nothing about that amounted to a lie. She didn’t go in there with the plan to check his bank account rec­ords and listen to his voice mails. She’d had numerous opportunities to check his phone and listen in on his work calls. She avoided all of it because, at heart, she did trust him. Despite the shitty hand Devin had dealt her and all his lies, she still believed there were good guys out there.