Night Moves (G-Man Series)

by ANDREA SMITH

  He raked his hand through his tousled hair and turned away from me, unable to say whatever he was going to say while facing me. He moved a couple of steps away.

  "Because," he faltered, "it's just that . . . you're not part . . . of my long-term plan. I'm sorry." The last part came out as a hoarse whisper.

  Breathe, Darcy. Just fucking breathe.

  "Got it," I said, feeling my hands ball up into tight fists at my side. I quickly closed the distance between us. I didn't recognize the guttural sounds of rage I was making as I flailed my fists as hard as I could against his bare chest, over and over again.

  Easton didn't attempt to shield himself, or even try to stop me. He let me continue to pummel him with all of my strength. Maybe it allowed him to feel less guilty about what he'd done.

  "I loved you, you son-of-a-bitch! I fucking loved you!" My sobs cut loose with a vengeance now, blinding me with pain and rage. I tore myself away from him not giving a shit about my things. He could trash them for all I cared. The bastard wasn't going to see me cry one more second. I'd shed the tears I needed to shed, but my audience wouldn't be Easton fucking Matthews!

  "Darcy," he called out, his arms outstretched as if pleading his case, as if there was more he wanted to say. I hesitated, but just momentarily. No words followed. There were a million fucking words he could've said at that moment:

  4 words: "I didn't mean it."

  3 words: "I love you."

  2 words: "Don't go."

  1 word: "Stop!"

  But he said none of them as I turned and headed towards the door. I slammed out of his suite, tears now blinding my eyes as I smacked the palm of my hand hard up against the button of the elevator, over and over again. Fuck! My handbag with my car keys, cell and everything else was still in his suite. I'd be damned if I'd go back for them. I tore the hair tie out, running my fingers through my long locks hoping to cover my tear-stained face from the general public. The humidity made my hair fan out in wispy, wavy, kinky strands.

  By the time I reached the lobby, the tears had stopped. I could only imagine how I looked to the doorman, clad in tight little shorts, my hair askew and mascara running down my cheeks making me look like some grunge rock groupie reject.

  "I don't have my cell." I tossed the numb words to him. "Would you please hail a cab for me?"

  He nodded.

  "Certainly, Miss."

  His face was soft with compassion. He'd seen me many times before coming in and out of the hotel with Easton. He'd held the door for us numerous times, always smiling and cheerfully greeting us as we came and went.

  He wouldn't be greeting me again.

  He went out onto the sidewalk and looked up the street. I saw him wave his arm, beckoning a cab to the curb outside. As soon as it arrived, I hit the pavement. He had the door to the cab opened for me. Tipping his hat to me, he wished me a good day.

  I prayed Eli was home so he could pay the fare.

  The cab ride home didn't even register in my mind. It was a total blur just like every other thought that was bouncing around in my murky, fog-cloaked mind. I was surprised I'd remembered my address when the cab driver had asked.

  As he pulled up to our building, a felt myself exhale seeing Eli's car parked in his slot.

  "I'll be just a minute with the fare," I said briskly to him. "I'm going right up there to Unit C," I explained. I couldn't imagine what he'd thought when I’d plopped into the back seat of his cab looking the way I looked, sniffling post-tears and looking like the broken-hearted zombie I was!

  I ran up the few concrete steps to our townhouse, my fists pounding on the front door, hearing someone's voice screaming "Eli! Eli!"

  The door flew open and Eli was standing there, a look of alarm on his face.

  "What the hell, Darce?" he asked, his eyes raking over my face. "Oh God, what is it?" he asked, opening the screen door.

  "Please pay the cab driver for me, okay? I'll pay you back, I promise." My voice was strangely calm - and monotone. I saw the look of concern cross over his face.

  "Sure," he replied, checking his back pocket to make sure his wallet was there. "I'll be right back, Darce. Let's talk then, okay?"

  "I'm really, really tired, Eli," I sighed. "We'll talk in the morning."

  He was ready to say more but the impatient cabbie leaned on his horn.

  "Stay right there, sweetie. Don't move," he instructed, loping across the small patch of grass towards the parking lot.

  I didn't do as he asked. I couldn't. I wasn't ready to spill my guts to anyone because if I did, I wouldn't be able to stop. I climbed the stairs to my room and collapsed on top of my bed, drawing my knees up to my chin, wrapping my arms around my calves essentially drawing myself up into a safe, tight ball, rocking back and forth as I let the tears quietly flow down in rivulets onto my cheeks.

  Several minutes later Eli was pounding on my closed and locked door. "Darcy, honey, let me in. I want to find out what happened. Please?"

  "Go away, Eli," I called out. "I just need to be alone for now, okay? We'll talk, just not right now. I've got to work it all out in my head."

  "Are you sure?" he replied, reluctantly. "Because I could just… Fuck, I don’t know, stand next to you? You don’t even have to say anything, I swear.”

  I didn’t answer through the door, but I still knew that he was standing there.

  “Darce, you really looked like you didn’t need to be alone right now.”

  "Maybe later," I replied. "I'm just so tired. I want to sleep and then take a shower. Later, okay?"

  "Okay," he replied, sounding concerned. "Hey, I'll be right downstairs if you need me. I'm staying in tonight."

  "'Kay," I called out. "Later."

  I heard him retreat back downstairs. I continued to rock back and forth in the fetal position, until blessedly I dozed off into a restless sleep.

  When I woke up it was dark outside. I glanced at my bedside clock. It was a quarter till ten. I could hear Eli downstairs, the sound of the television muted any conversation but I could tell he was on his phone. Probably apologizing to Cain for standing him up tonight so that he could babysit his pathetic roommate.

  I crawled out of bed, pulling clean underwear and a nightie from my dresser. I wanted a shower more than anything. I needed to wash off Easton's scent for good.

  My hot shower felt nice. I scrubbed my skin so hard it was a dark shade of pink when I emerged from the shower. I'd washed my hair furiously remembering how he'd touched it multiple times earlier, wanting his fingerprints gone.

  I patted my skin dry, pulling up my clean panties, and tossing the silky nightgown over my shoulders. I started towel drying my long, damp locks, spritzing detangler on it. The bathroom was so steamed up that I couldn't see my reflection in the mirror. Maybe that was for the best.

  I took a hand towel and wiped the fog from the mirror over the sink. I studied my reflection now. I'd managed to scrub all remnants of the mascara and eyeliner off my cheeks where they'd streaked from my tears.

  I picked up my wide-toothed comb, and started trying to run in through my hair, bringing some semblance of order to it. It was well past my shoulders. It was the hair that Easton had loved, forever touching it, running his fingers through it, and breathing in the scent of it. He'd been minorly obsessed with it. Not anymore. My hair, like me, wasn't in his long-term plan.

  My comb hit a major tangle and came to an abrupt halt.

  Damn! I hate when that happens.

  I set the comb down and tried to work through it with my fingers. Shit. I'd no patience with this right now. I opened the drawer to the vanity and found Eli's trimming scissors for his goatee. Maybe I should just snip this one extremely stubborn tangle out. I mean, Christ! My hair was super thick. It wouldn't be missed.

  I aligned the scissors right above the snarled knot in my hair and snipped, watching it fall to the bathroom floor. That wasn't so bad. I turned back to the mirror, taking the comb that now slid smoothly through that side of my hea
d.

  Oops . . . now this side of my head has a shorter chunk of hair.

  Not a problem, I decided. I'll just make a layer cut that same length on the other side of my head so we match. I studied the new length of hair on the left side of my head, positioning the scissors as closely on the right side of my head and snipped a chunk of the length off. There. I turned back to the mirror, combing both sides to see if they were now even.

  Not quite. Just a little bit more off the left . . .

  Twenty minutes later Eli was outside the bathroom door knocking loudly.

  "Darce? You didn't fall in did you?" he said, trying to make light of his concern that I may have gone into the bathroom for the sole purpose of slitting my wrists. I mean hell - what he must've thought seeing me in the state I was in when I got home.

  "No worries," I called out. "I’m about done here. I just had to trim some split ends. Gotta pee?"

  "Well, yeah," he said, acting as if he really wasn't sure whether he had to pee or not.

  I gave myself one last assessment in the mirror. I guess it wasn't so bad. At least most of it was even now, though I couldn't see the back. I'd ask Eli.

  I quickly unlocked the bathroom door, throwing it open.

  "Ta da," I sang out, my hands fluffing up my damp locks, or what was left of them. "What do you think?" I asked, twirling around so he'd get the full effect.

  Eli's eyes widened as he studied my face and hair and then dropped his eyes immediately to the bathroom floor where multiple piles of various lengths of snipped clumps of dark brown hair laid scattered everywhere.

  "Oh, fuck," he said, his face a mask of concern. "Do you have Monroe's personal cell number?"

  ~ Easton ~

  I repositioned myself once again on the soft, leather couch in the cabin of my jet. I'd just finished my second bourbon, my laptop perched on my lap as I attempted to finish this email to Colin. I glanced at my watch. He and Ronnie should be landing at Reagan International right about now. He'd see my email once the flight attendants allowed passengers to resume use of their electronic devices.

  I re-read it for the third time:

  Colin,

  I'm in transit to New York now. I moved my travel plans up for personal reasons. You and I can talk on Monday. Darcy's aware of the organizational change but I'm not sure what you can expect from her come Monday. Call if issues arise. - E.

  There. It was finished. I closed my laptop, powering it off, and downed the rest of my bourbon. I doubted if there was enough bourbon on the continent at the moment to dull the pain I felt over what I'd done. How I'd left. The fucking coward I'd been.

  "Easton," my mother said quietly as the limo sped off into the black night, putting distance between me and the corpse she'd just introduced to me as my father."I want to tell you how this happened. You've a right to know."

  I looked over at her, seeing the misery in her eyes that meant she was in pain. Now she wanted to share that pain with me. Thirty-three years later.

  "I'm listening, Mother."

  "Your fa - Constantine and I were lovers for more than thirty-five years. He was fifteen years older than me, and he was married. His wife, Isabella couldn't give him children, yet he remained devoted to her whilst loving me on the side."

  "Don't you mean whilst fucking you on the side, Mother?"

  "Come now, Easton. Don’t be churlish. It was love. We loved each other but I knew he'd never leave Isabella. French aristocracy still exists despite what you believe. Constantine would never dishonour her that way. I realised that after I purposely got pregnant with you." She stopped, pulling a lacey handkerchief from her handbag to wipe her tears."Yes, I know. The oldest trick in the book. It didn't matter to him, though. He was angry with me and said it was over. Done. He said that he never wanted to see me again." Her voice was filled with emotion as she continued.

  "I wasn't quite finished with the games, though. I started hanging out at the various pubs and night spots in Swindon. There was an American Air Force base located close by. That's where I met Trace Matthews. He was immediately attracted to me so I used that as a weapon against Constantine, knowing it would get back to him." She shrugged her shoulders as if it was of little consequence. "I told Trace a month later I was pregnant with his child. He was in love with me. I knew his tour was nearly up with the military. I knew I could leave England and go to the States with him, as his wife. I knew it would drive Constantine crazy. And it did."

  "Mother," I interrupted, "what's the point of all this?"

  "Please, let me finish, Easton," she said, touching my arm for comfort. "I did a cruel thing to Trace Matthews. I didn't love him at all, but I let him think that I did. After you were born, a month early, he knew. Still, he never said a word to me about it, because he loved me and he loved you as his son. The problem was Constantine wanted me back. He'd located me and was keeping in contact. He knew he had a son. He wanted me to return to England with you so that we'd at least be close. So I did. I admitted everything to Trace Matthews, divorced him and returned to England. Once I did, I resumed the affair with Constantine. I thought for sure he'd want to visit you, but he didn't. He was afraid word would get out that he had a bastard son and it would crush Isabella. So, all of those 'vacations' I took? They were nothing more than me sneaking off to be with him in secret, remote places. Isabella passed away five years ago," she said in a loud whisper, dabbing her eyes.

  "Finally," she continued, "I thought we'd be together, that our love could be known to everyone. No more hiding." She laughed derisively, shaking her head in disgust."It seems when Isabella died, she took Constantine's heart with her. He was a broken man, eaten up with guilt and regrets. I finally realised that for me, love was a toxic potion. I'd wasted all those years thinking I loved someone who loved me back. It was a cruel realisation. I left him to wallow in his self-pity and remorse. He contacted me several months ago begging for me to visit him. That's when he told me he was dying, and that he wanted to see you, to talk to you and beg your forgiveness."

  "And what about you, Mother?" I asked, focusing my attention on this woman who'd given birth to me but not much else.

  "I don't understand," she replied. "What are you asking?"

  "I'm asking when you intend to ask for my forgiveness."

  I saw her bristle immediately, her eyes narrowing as she stared at me. "You had a good life, Easton. But don't think for one minute that we aren't cut from the same cloth, you and me. I'm telling you this as your mother so that you don't waste the years I've wasted pining for something or someone that will never honestly love you back. It's not within us to love or to be loved unconditionally. We poison ourselves and those around us with our black hearts, trust me."

  I powered up my laptop as the plane was taxiing down the runway of the private airstrip outside of the city. I pulled up the GPS file on Darcy and clicked on the 'Night Moves' link to get the coordinates. The codes populated the field immediately. She was at her apartment.

  Good girl.

  It was July 4th weekend. Eli and I'd decided to host a cook-out at our apartment for the hell of it. I'd invited Mom and Dad, Lindsey, Taz and Baby Harper. Eli had invited Cain. It would be a small gathering as our outside patio couldn't accommodate a much larger group.

  It had been a little more than two weeks since Easton had dumped me. Eli had gotten me through that weekend. The following Monday I'd reported to work with a spiffy new hair-style that barely hit my shoulders, complete with both high and low lights to give it that "chunky" look as Monroe had called it when he made a special Sunday house call to his favorite crazy-ass customer.

  I won't lie, it was a tad uncomfortable being around Colin again. I wasn't sure how much he knew about Easton and me. But by Tuesday afternoon, the veil of discomfort had been blown away and we were back to our usual business banter and personal chatter.

  Ronnie had met us for lunch on Wednesday. She'd been condo hunting and had a list of potentials for Colin to visit after work. I even found
myself laughing a couple of times during our conversation, but the absence of Easton's name on a daily basis at the office, and even at lunch with Ronnie spoke volumes. I even caught Ronnie looking at me with a sad expression a couple of times. After the whole thing that happened in Easton’s hotel room, I was pretty sure I could handle pretty much anything, but someone’s pity. That one took a little strength and tenacity, I’m not going to lie.

  Eli came through the patio door just then, interrupting my thoughts. "So, you planning on giving your parents the good news today?" he asked, giving me a wink. "Seems like an appropriate theme for Independence Day, yeah?"

  I gave him 'the look', popping a cherry tomato in my mouth from the salad I'd been making. "Funny you should mention it," I replied, "I actually intend to give them the news while they're here."

  "No," he said, his eyes widening. "So, I guess you're all about having some fireworks after all."

  “You know, I actually don’t have an issue telling them they’re about to be grandparents. I mean, my mom’s been practically trying to get me married for the purpose of seeing me drive a minivan full of kids—”

  Eli let out a shrill gasp, “A minivan?” He popped the cap off a cold, bottled beer and immediately took a swig. “Dear God, where have I failed you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. She’s like every mom, which means she’s basically genetically engineered for her Thanksgiving dinners to get bigger and bigger each year.” I shrugged, digging through the salad for another cherry tomato. “Telling them isn’t the deal. This isn’t the fifties, like you said, right?”

  He was leaning on the sink next to me, now studying my massacred vegetables. “So, what is the big dealio?”

  I blew out a breath. “Telling them who got me pregnant.”

  “But you are going to tell them…” Eli replied, waiting for me to assure him.

  I looked at him with a scrunched-up nose, not answering.

  "What?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You know damn well they’re gonna ask."