by Jamie Denton
Neither her voice nor her eyes held an ounce of accusation, but Jared still looked away. Romines didn’t fall apart. They held it together, no matter what.
“Even my job was at risk for a while because of my involvement with you, which only added more stress,” she continued. “I think I was too wrapped up in fearing for your safety one minute, then being furious that you would turn your back on the very laws you were sworn to uphold. I’d never been particularly regular anyway, so I didn’t even notice that sign. Once I figured out something wasn’t right, I had my suspicions confirmed. By then it had been just over two months since you’d left, and I was about twelve weeks pregnant.”
He lifted his head and looked at her. “I had no idea, Peyton. I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what? his conscience taunted him. Sorry that he hadn’t been there? Or sorry that he’d gotten her pregnant? If their lives hadn’t been torn to shreds, would he have apologized when she’d told him she was pregnant? Or would he have celebrated the gift of life they’d created?
He didn’t know the answer. He simply had no idea what his reaction would have been to news of impending fatherhood.
She gave him a teary-eyed smile. “Would it have made a difference if you’d known, Jared?”
He steadily held her gaze. She always did ask the tough questions. “I regret that I wasn’t there for you, sweetheart, but I can’t regret the reasons why. Phipps and someone in the bureau have reasons to see me dead. If I’d stayed, I would have endangered your life, and the life of our baby.”
The slight nod of her head told him she accepted his reply for what it was, the only truth he knew. He imagined she had her own version, but he didn’t think it would differ too greatly from his. Because no matter how many times either of them mentally replayed the night he’d left, even if he had known she was pregnant the ending would’ve remained the same—with him running for his life and her left to raise their child alone.
“I’ve told myself over and over again that even if the circumstances had been different, it wouldn’t have changed anything, but I still have moments when I get angry.”
She didn’t have to say angry at whom. Her pulling her hand from his told him more than she probably realized.
“I don’t think there’s anything anyone could’ve done to prevent what happened,” she continued. “I’ve replayed those days a thousand times in my mind. Each and every time I always come back to the same answer. Things happen for reasons we don’t understand, and all we can do is accept them and move on with our lives.”
She could’ve been quoting chapter and verse from one of his mother’s books, which had flooded the market during the self-improvement rage a decade or two ago. Part of him resented Peyton’s easily spouted philosophical explanation for events that made no sense, while the rest of him understood the truth behind the cliché.
He scooped up his shirt when he stood, then shrugged into it, not bothering with the buttons. “You make it sound easy,” he said, more abruptly than he’d intended.
From the widening of her eyes, he guessed the sharpness of his tone took her by surprise. She had to understand the myriad emotions flowing through him. There probably weren’t many that she hadn’t experienced herself in coming to terms with the past. Losing a child was a wound that would never completely heal. The slightest bump caused it to open and bleed again.
“No. Never,” she said.
He looked down at her and frowned. “You said him. Did he have a name?”
“Adam.”
Jared didn’t say anything, just turned and walked toward the door to the bathroom, where he stopped and turned around. “Adam Douglas?” Why it was important to him, he couldn’t say, but dammit, it was. They had enough problems without him tossing male territoriality into the mix, but so be it.
He lifted his arm and rested it above his head on the doorjamb as he looked at her, waiting for an answer.
She no doubt saw where this was going, based on her long, drawn-out sigh. “I don’t think this has anything to do with the name on Adam’s birth certificate.”
He frowned. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”
“Yes, his last name was Douglas.” She crossed her arms and gave Jared a level stare. “I couldn’t list you on the birth certificate because we weren’t married and you weren’t around to sign the paternity documents.”
The accusation in her tone taunted him. “Is that your problem? That I wasn’t around?”
“My problem?” Her eyes flashed with irritation. “I don’t think so, Jared. Your being around was not something I’d ever been accustomed to for any great length of time. And I’m not talking about recently, either.”
“What are you talking about? I seem to remember that I was always there for you.”
She laughed, the sound cold and brittle. “Physically, maybe, but not emotionally.”
He straightened. “That’s bull.”
“Whenever things got the least bit sticky, you withdrew. You always have. God, you’re doing it now.” She came off the bed and crossed the room toward him. “Instead of talking about what’s really bothering you, you’re picking a fight over a nonissue. I see that much hasn’t changed. Does emotionally unavailable have a familiar ring to it, Jared?”
He crossed his arms and braced his feet apart. “That’s your label, sweetheart. Not mine. Does the path of least resistance sound familiar to you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Guess that made us the perfect match then, didn’t it?”
“I guess it did,” he snapped.
“What more could you ask for? I don’t like to feel too much, and you don’t want to feel anything. I could always tell what you were thinking, just by looking in your eyes. And I always knew the second you withdrew from me. Whenever I wanted something emotional from you, you were gone.”
He struggled to keep his anger in check, but felt control slipping away from him. The thought of walking out entered his mind. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Prove to her she’s right.
When he said nothing, she lifted her hand and started using her fingers to tick off his crimes. “When I missed out on my first promotion. When I lost my first big case. Or when I received word that Sister Margaret had passed away. God, Jared. You wouldn’t even attend her funeral with me, and you knew how important she was to me.”
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “I had to work.”
She turned her back on him and bent to scoop up her socks. “I always thought it fascinating how a long-term assignment usually came your way at precise times like that.” She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged the heavy wool over her feet. “Then you’d disappear and I wouldn’t hear from you for weeks.”
“It was my job,” he muttered angrily.
“It was your escape.”
The accusation was impossible to deny. Instead of admitting the truth to her, he went on the offensive. “You’re a fine one to talk about escape. What do you think accepting Atwood’s proposal is?”
She stood and glared at him for the length of a dozen heartbeats. “Moving on,” she said, then stalked out of the bedroom.
He relaxed his hands, then clenched them, over and over again as he counted to ten, twice. He should let her go. Should stay where he was, take a hot shower, try to relax. At the very least, keep some necessary space between them.
He did none of those. Instead he went in search of her.
He found her in the kitchen, setting a mug in the microwave oven.
“I think you’re using Atwood to hide from life. He doesn’t ask much of you, does he?”
Silence. Not even an angry expression tossed in his direction. She moved to the cabinet and withdrew a carton of instant cappuccino.
Jared stepped into the room. “You don’t love him, Peyton. If you did, then what we did in that bedroom tonight never would’ve happened.”
She retrieved a packet, then carefully returned the carton to the cabinet. Still she said nothing. Because he spoke t
he truth? Or because she wasn’t ready to face it?
He narrowed the distance between them. “Would it, sweetheart?” he asked her quietly.
She braced her slender hands on the edge of the counter. The diamond ring on her finger glistened and sparkled beneath the overhead lighting.
“If that ring meant half of what you wanted it to mean, you never would have given yourself to me the way you did.”
“Stop it, Jared.”
“He doesn’t make you feel too much. That way you don’t lose control. You can protect your sacred little world and never let anyone that threatens you inside.”
She flinched when the microwave beeped, signaling the end of the warming cycle, but she didn’t move away. Jared pressed closer, but not close enough to touch her. Yet.
“No one can make you feel the things I make you feel. No one ever could, and no man ever will again. You know it. And it scares the hell out of you.”
“Don’t.” The single word was a whispered plea he chose to ignore.
He reached out and smoothed his hand down her cheek. “Don’t what, baby? Don’t make you cry out like you did earlier? Or don’t make you beg me for more?”
“Jared, please.”
He slid his fingers beneath her hair and cupped the back of her neck in his palm. Using his thumb, he gently rubbed the tender skin below her ear. “Umm, I’d like nothing more than to please you. Again. And again. And again.”
He could’ve sworn she trembled, but as he looked down into her eyes, he was convinced otherwise. Anger had them flaring as she glared at him.
“And then what, Jared? We live happily ever after?” She stepped away from him and retrieved her cup from the microwave. “Buy a house in the suburbs, put up a white picket fence and hang lace curtains in the kitchen? I know. We can snap our fingers and the past will magically disappear.”
She dumped the contents of the packet into the mug of steaming water and stirred. “I’m going to bed. Alone. There are linens in the bathroom closet. I’m sure you’ll find the sofa comfortable.”
He watched her walk away from him—again. What he really wanted to do was to follow her and prove he was right about Atwood and her feelings for the creep. For now Jared let her go. But he knew he wouldn’t have to wait long.
STEVE PACED THE LENGTH of his living room, turned, and repeated the process. His mind worked better when he moved. Considering the news he’d learned today, he should be out jogging, even if it was nearing 11:00 p.m.
Time was running out. With the computer breach of a few weeks ago, he knew without a doubt Romine was getting closer to the truth. He could feel it. If they didn’t find the bastard before he found them, there would be hell to pay…and a number of careers ruined for a lot of important people, his included. And that was something he refused to allow to happen.
He stopped pacing and took a deep breath. He never panicked, but he sure as hell was close to panic now. There had been nothing but one false lead after another, and now, no one knew where Romine and Douglas were hiding.
“Shit!” He started to pace again.
Thanks to the incompetents working for the senator, their position was now more precarious than ever. Romine had cash. Not a lot, according to the ATM records Steve had been given last night, but enough that a resourceful guy with skills like Romine’s could literally hide out for months and not be found. The bastard had even led them on a merry chase. First into Virginia, then back into D.C. to a dump of a motel. Steve had been so sure they would’ve had Romine by now, but instead of finding the lovers holed up in a cheap motel, the bureau guys had come up with nothing but a punk kid and one of Douglas’s credit cards.
To make matters worse, the senator had not been happy. Not that Steve could blame him, considering they were all looking at very long prison sentences if they didn’t ensure Romine’s silence.
Tomorrow morning the president would announce the first of two new appointments to the U.S. Supreme Court. Steve had done his job well, thanks to his connection in the bureau, who had made sure each of the other candidates on the short list had been effectively eliminated. Of that much he was certain. The players, with the exception of Romine and Douglas, were all in place and ready to move forward. Once Galloway and Boswell were secured on the bench, the senator would continue to line his pockets with kickback money from several HMOs, with funds trickling down to those who helped seat the newly appointed justices. No one, other than the players paid handsomely for their participation, would know that Senator Martin Phipps was responsible for maintaining the balance of the United States Supreme Court to ensure further riches in the biggest moneymaking scam since Whitewater.
Implicating Douglas had brought Romine out of hiding, but only long enough to take the little lady on the lam with him. That had been a twist Steve hadn’t anticipated. The plan had been to draw Douglas into the quagmire, then wait for Romine to show up like a knight on a white charger to save his damsel in distress. Except Romine had somehow known their plan. As usual, he’d been two steps ahead of them. Someone had helped the bastard. Steve suspected the last agent on the case, but he had no proof. Yet.
He stopped pacing and dropped onto the sofa. Leaning back, he propped his fingertips together and tapped them rhythmically against his lips. What if they sent someone to talk to the last agent to work the Romine files? Would it make a difference? Could it bring them closer to silencing Romine?
Possibly.
Steve reached for his cell phone and dialed. Whoever was sent to question the last agent on the Romine case needed to be expendable. They couldn’t run the risk of acquiring another wild card.
Not a problem, he thought as he waited for the call to connect. He’d even take care of it himself, after he had the information he needed, because it wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten blood on his hands.
11
AFTER TWO HOURS of tossing and turning, Peyton gave up trying to sleep. She’d thought getting up and walking around might help, at least in terms of tiring herself out, but the floorboards creaked. In the middle of the night, the sound had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball crashing into a brick building. The last thing she wanted was for Jared to know she was still awake. Being Jared, he’d probably suspect the motivation behind her nocturnal activities—that she couldn’t stop thinking about him or their conversation.
She kept her gaze on the white glow of the sandy beach under the moonlight outside the bedroom window, while absently spinning the diamond engagement ring around on her finger. If there was one thing she really hated, it was when Jared was right. Right? she wondered. Or knew her better than she knew herself?
Either way, it didn’t matter. Not if she was going to be completely honest with herself. Jared was absolutely right. She hadn’t accepted Leland’s proposal because she was in love with him, but because of the emotional security he represented. She did love him, but not in that all-consuming way she’d once loved Jared. As he’d so graciously informed her, Leland didn’t make her feel too much, didn’t threaten her or turn her world upside down. Leland was safe. Not exactly fodder for happily-ever-after.
She leaned her shoulder against the window frame and sighed. She’d thought she’d been after some serious grounding and perspective when she’d called Leland from her cell phone. The truth of the matter was entirely different. In reality, she’d been looking for something much more dangerous—that certain spark, a hint of lust. Anything that remotely resembled the traitorous emotions she still felt for Jared.
All she’d gotten for her trouble had been regret and a whole lot of guilt, because no matter how much she wanted to feel otherwise, Jared’s words had never rang more true. She’d felt absolutely nothing remotely like what a lover should feel upon hearing Leland’s voice.
Through no fault of her own, she was going to cause Leland a great deal of embarrassment. He wasn’t the type to appreciate his orderly world being twisted inside out, something her recent notoriety would certainly accomplish. Until now,
she’d fit perfectly in Leland’s world, and he in hers. And while the idea gave her comfort, reality sang another song, one that would croon mournfully for a passion that just didn’t exist between them.
Beige.
She spun the ring around again as she looked down at the sparkling gem. She supposed she really wasn’t into beige, after all.
Slowly, she slipped the engagement ring from her finger. Funny, but she didn’t even miss the weight.
So did that mean she really did want red-hot and sexy, as Kellie had teased her about last Friday night? Peyton had no future with Jared. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to consider the future, period, given their present circumstances. There were too many unresolved issues between them, too much hurt and not enough trust to even begin to recapture what they’d once shared.
Nothing had really changed between them, she realized, except the passage of time. His avoidance of emotion still ran strong, as witnessed by the way he’d tried to pick a fight with her over the surname on Adam’s birth certificate, followed by his attack on her reasons for agreeing to marry Leland. Instead of facing the hurt, he emotionally distanced himself from the real issue and chose another venue for his anger and pain. In fact, now that she thought about it, it made perfect sense. For someone who preferred to keep his feelings safeguarded, projecting his emotions into a safer arena allowed him to vent his frustrations without being forced to address the true issue.
And he’d had the nerve to chide her for wanting to feel safe.
Security was a subject very familiar to her. Not only physically, but emotionally, as well. After the death of her mother, Peyton’s life had consisted of one foster home after the other. She’d had no other living relatives any social worker could find, so she’d been left in the care of the department of children’s services. Not all of the homes she’d lived in were bad experiences. Some were even fairly decent, with good, hardworking people offering their care, if not their hearts, to the children entrusted to them. Unfortunately, through no fault of her own, she’d been bounced from one home to the next, never allowing her so much as even the illusion of belonging.