by Paige Rion
Slowly, and with clear deliberation, Rachel grabbed the hem of her blouse and lifted it over her head. “So, let’s just be in this moment together.”
She saw his throat move as he swallowed. His gaze swept over her while her pulse thundered in her chest. Reaching out, she took his hand and placed it over the flesh atop her heart.
“For now, I don’t need words. I just want to feel,” she whispered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Colton untangled himself from Rachel’s arms. She breathed softly in her sleep, stirring slightly when he leaned over the bed. He grabbed the phone from the pocket of his jeans and checked the time. 1 a.m. He had an hour before he had to be home.
Sighing, he rolled back toward Rachel, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair from her face, soaking up every detail of this moment, of her, like a sponge. Because, after tonight, he’d probably never get another chance.
Every passing second was excruciating. He never should’ve made love to her. It was a mistake, not because he didn’t love her. He did. It still shocked him that he had fallen for her in such a short time, but he knew, regardless of his feelings for her, he had a job to finish. He had an investigation to wrap up, and, as if either a stroke of fate or a cruel joke, Rachel had hand-fed him the very piece of information he had been waiting for. Unbeknownst to her, she had given him the ammunition he needed to end her father’s career and put him in jail.
And as he took every inch of her in, he recognized that he was about to change her life for the worse. He was about to hurt her. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Swallowing, he leaned in and brushed his lips softly over the apple of her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin under his, remembering what it felt like just an hour ago with her body pressed against his, moving in time with his own. Their hearts beating to the same rhythm.
Slowly, he drew the covers back and slipped out of bed, being careful not to disturb her. He grabbed his jeans off the floor and tugged them on, and then took the forgotten file she placed on the nightstand, along with his phone. He made his way into the bathroom directly off her room.
Closing the door behind him, he removed the paperwork from the folder and tried not to think about what he was doing. He took random pictures of the documentation inside to analyze later, in case they might be of use. Then, he removed the final document—the signed contract for the silence of the Beaumonts’ housekeeper—took a photograph, along with the bank slip. Folding the contract and slip in four, he shoved it in his back pocket.
Exhaling a long breath, he went into the email on his phone. His stomach lurched as he attached the photos and typed in his boss’s address. With his pulse beating like a sledgehammer, he glanced to the closed door. Just outside the bathroom, Rachel lay sound asleep, completely unaware. The thought sent shockwaves through his heart.
He grit his teeth and exhaled, while his stomach twisted. He needed to do this. It was his duty.
With shaking fingers, he hit send, already hating himself for it the moment the email left his outbox.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to erase her from his heart. He tried to vanquish the desire he felt when he pictured her, but it was of no use. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was her. The scent of her lingered on his skin, and as the knowledge that he was about to lose her sank into his bones, panic sent his heart leaping into his throat. Sweat pricked the back of his neck and the floor began to spin. But it was too late. He’d already sent the images. And what choice did he have? This was his job. He was putting a criminal behind bars. And even if he wanted to back out now, which would lose him his job, he would be held legally responsible for withholding information.
But these things did little to ease his guilty conscience, because no matter how much he reasoned away his actions, he was going to hurt Rachel. And there was no coming back from that.
Shoving the phone into his pocket, he left the bathroom. He glanced to the bed only to find it empty. Frowning, his gaze swept the room until he caught sight of Rachel and froze. She stood in the corner, amongst the shadows.
She wore nothing but his shirt, and as he looked at her, something about her expression made his hair stand on end.
“Colton McCabe,” she murmured.
* * *
His throat constricted at the sound of his real name, his mouth suddenly dry as sand.
She moved out of the shadows, and when she did her expression nearly destroyed him. Her forehead buckled in grief and her eyes clouded with pain.
She held out his wallet, staring at the badge he kept hidden beneath a special flap. “Special agent for the FBI. Impressive.” She tossed the wallet at him, then crossed her arms over her chest, seeming to shrink back with the movement.
“I can explain.” Colton’s voice shook. “I—”
“Was Molly even real? Was she even yours or is she some pawn you borrowed to go along with your cover story?”
“Of course she’s mine.”
“How long exactly were you going to play me? I’m just curious. Was this it? Get me in bed and then it’s over? Or was one time not enough? Were you going to wait two, three times, or use me up and wring me out, then come clean?”
Bile rose to the back of his throat. Already he had lost her. He could see it in her eyes. “Rachel, I never meant to hurt you. I know that’s not good enough.”
“Damn right that’s not good enough.” She stalked toward him.
“I know, and it doesn’t take any of it away, but I lov—”
The answering slap cracked like a whip. His skin stung from her touch, and even as the shock of it wore off, he knew he deserved it.
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare.” Then, as if the magnitude of the situation suddenly sank in, Rachel took a step back. Her face crumpled as she covered her mouth with her hands. “Why are you here? What has my father done?”
Taking a steadying breath, Colton, moved forward, and even as he knew he should keep his mouth shut, leave and let Rachel come to terms with the events of what was sure to follow and heal in peace, he couldn’t stop himself. “I was working undercover. I was gathering evidence on your father for racketeering and accepting bribe money for underground gambling. He used the funds for his campaigns as well as familial expenses.” He swallowed over the lump in his throat, as he waited for this to register.
“No,” Rachel whispered. She shook her head, tears filling then falling from her eyes. “No. No.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t even have told you. I’m putting everything at risk by telling you, but I need you to understand. Please understand that I did what I had to.”
“Don’t do it.” Rachel shot forward, grasping his hands in hers, squeezing them, even while she trembled. Anguish etched the lines of her face. “Don’t turn him in. Please. For me. ”
“I have to,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. “It’s my job, my duty. I need to do the right thing, to support Molly... Don’t ask me not to. I can’t.” He shook his head.
“I gave you information you needed. Didn’t I?” Then, as if noticing it for the first time, she glanced down to the file hanging from his fingers, her eyes wide. She dropped his hands and stepped away from him as if she was afraid he might do something else to hurt her. “Who are you? I don’t even know you,” she whispered, and turned from him. “Go. Leave. Now.”
“Rachel.” He stepped forward, pleading in his voice, and placed a hand on her shoulder. His heart sank to the floor as she cringed. “Please listen. I never meant for you—”
“I said go,” she yelled, her voice shrill. “Please. You’re a stranger to me.”
“That’s not true.”
She whipped around, her eyes flashing. “I knew a man named Rex Greene. I don’t know you. I don’t know who Colton McCabe is. Leave. Before I call the police.”
Colton stepped back. Though he knew he had already lost her the moment she told him about the information in the folder, he had
hoped. Maybe, somehow, he could make her listen, make her understand... But it was a foolish, empty hope.
Turning on his heel, Colton grabbed his jacket from the floor and left without looking back.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The rest of the night passed in excruciating slow motion. Rachel laid awake in her bed, vacillating between thoughts of her father and Rex—or Colton.
The name seemed so foreign. As she lay there in the dark, she repeated the name over and over, letting it roll off her tongue and wondering if it would ever match the face of the man that she had come to love.
The weird part is that the rational side of her understood why he had to keep his identity a secret. She even understood why he needed to lie. If her father really did what Colton accused him of, then he deserved to get caught. No one was immune to the law, and Rachel wasn’t foolish enough to think that her own father should be.
Until she found his wallet, along with his badge, their night together had been perfect. She relished the evening spent with he and Molly, flirting with him and stealing furtive glances above her head during the movie, intertwining fingers over the top of her seat, and sharing stolen kisses when her back was turned. Then he came back here and she told him how she felt. That she loved him and proceeded to make love to him, and all the while he had been lying to her. The whole time, he knew he was only a breath away from turning her life upside down.
The fact that he allowed her to express her feelings for him, had allowed her to be intimate knowing what he knew, was probably the worst part of all. The thought that he could be so callous with her feelings, so reckless with her heart, crushed her.
A dull ache thudded in her chest, and she hurt in places she hadn’t known possible. She had dated so many men before, run after ones she thought would give her something she needed, yet she had never really loved. Until now. Until Rex.
Figures that she would do it all wrong. Fall for the one man she shouldn’t.
Worse yet, she didn’t doubt Colton’s feelings for her. No matter what she said to him earlier, she believed he loved her, had known he was about to tell her so. Yet this knowledge made nothing easier and, instead, made it harder. Because being with him now was impossible. She couldn’t imagine how it would ever work. At the end of the day, he would always be the man responsible for gathering the evidence that might convict her father. If he went to jail, she would always be cognizant that Colton played a role in putting him there. And even if he got off, even if he was innocent and this was a mistake of mass proportions, how could she be with Colton knowing he had wanted to bust her father? Would he always think about how he failed? Question the integrity of her family? And whether he did or not, would Rachel be able to be with him devoid of the paranoia that he was hiding something from her, if even only his feelings on the matter.
She pondered her father’s secret. While a part of her denied that there was a possibility he had broken the law, some portion of her believed it. The pieces of the puzzle fit for the most part. The yachts, vacations, campaign dollars. There were times Rachel had her own questions about where the money for certain things had come from, but she pushed them aside, telling herself her father had investments she didn’t know about. Never once would she have expected this of him and the absurdity of it bubbled inside her, threatening to split her in two.
She tried to imagine what would happen to him. What would become of her mother if he were sent to jail? But the images would not come. All she could picture was a big black hole. A blank screen.
She wondered what it would feel like to watch her father get arrested. To see their family name dragged through the mud. Would they find him in Washington? Or wait for him to return home? Would it be hours, days, months? Or would the rhythm of their lives continue as usual, bringing with it some peace and normalcy only to have it wiped away as if it had never existed in the first place?
* * *
The arrest was nothing like Rachel had thought it would be. The movies had it all wrong, creating huge cinematic scenes for the sake of good television. The actual event was more subdued—nothing like the grand and dramatic event Rachel had pictured.
The sun shined, despite the chill in the air. When Rachel heard the knock on the door, along with booming voice, “FBI,” her stomach plunged and suddenly she found herself second-guessing the decision of not telling her father about Colton and the events about to transpire. She had kept quiet because the information would be of little use, because despite her anger at Colton, she hadn’t wanted to hurt him.
Her pulse raced as her mother answered the door, with an almost resigned gait. She opened it, with her father following right behind, and immediately several men entered, swarming their home. The man in front, the one who had spoken through the door, wore a suit and tie. He stepped forward, pulling a pair of cuffs out of his waistband and held them out, as he walked behind her father.
“Mr. Beaumont, you are being charged with racketeering and collusion. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say...”
Rachel bit her nails, and across the room, her gaze met one of the agents’. He wore a black jumpsuit and a full black ski mask. His gaze was not on her father, but on her.
Rachel stilled, unable to move. She would recognize those eyes anywhere. Not Rex, she reminded herself. Colton.
Her father’s eyes widened as the agent cuffed him.
She tore her eyes away from Rex and looked at her mother, noticing for the first time the harsh lines around her mouth and eyes, the small bits of silver peeking through her roots. The signs of stress and age had taken their toll. How had she not realized just how much her mother had aged over the last year?
As they finished reading her father’s rights and began to drag him to the door, he protested. Rachel held back, forcing herself not to try and help him, to remain quiet. A painful mixture of fury and despair coursed through her.
She wanted to jump up and tell him that she was sorry if anything she did had added to the evidence against him. She wanted to shout at him, to scream, to ask him why he would do this to his family. If it was worth it. But she did none of those things.
Rachel watched from the window as they shoved her father in the back of a police car, and then drove away. Several unmarked cars still sat in her driveway and as the seconds passed, she watched as most of the men returned to them and sped off. She tried not to examine their faces, tried not to look for the one she recognized, to see what car he got into, what direction he headed.
Turning, she scanned the room, wondering what she was going to do with herself.
That’s when she saw him again. Across from her, he stepped forward, his black ski mask pushed up over his head, so she could see his face.
Her heart knocked against her ribs and tears pooled in her eyes. A painful tugging on her heart had her wanting to throw herself in his arms and hit him at the same time. She felt completely lost, as though her life had shattered into a million pieces, and looking at Rex now was like staring at the fragments while they punctured her heart.
Her chest grew heavy and she found it hard to breathe. His eyes softened as he stepped toward her once more, but she couldn’t find her voice. Couldn’t tell him to stop.
“Rachel...” he trailed off, his voice thick.
She shrugged, unsure if she could manage to speak without unleashing her tears.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and when she said nothing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. When he moved his hand away from his face, she could see the moisture in his eyes. “Please, say something.”
“What do you want me to say?” Her throat burned with the words. “What? Do you want me to say that I’m okay? Well, I’m not. Do you want me to say that everything’s going to be fine? Because I can’t.” She lifted her arms and shook her head. “I don’t know if anything is going to ever be okay. Right now, it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s going to be.”
Rex nodded and glanced to the floor. “Do you hate me?” he whispe
red.
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You have the gall to ask me that?” She bit her lip, swallowing over the emotion rising in the back of her throat. “You know, the worst part is that I don’t. I don’t hate you. Because a part of me understands it. But the truth is I don’t know you, Rex, Colton, whatever your name is... I feel like I don’t really know you.”
“You do. Please, everything I told you was true. It was me. This was the only thing I hid from you and lied about. Rachel...” He stepped toward her, his voice pleading. “This weekend without you was horrible. I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to lose you. Rachel, I love—”
“Stop. Just stop.” She held out her hands, as if shielding herself from him. She took a step back, head turned away.
“It is selfish. You can’t come in here and turn my life upside down, lie to me, make me fall for you, then expect me to just go on as if none of it ever happened.” Then, it dawned on her that her father and her family weren’t the only ones who lost because of this. “And Carma...”
She took a breath, steeling herself, and met his eyes once more. “You could’ve at least waited until he talked with the prosecutors. Now she’ll go to jail, too. I’ll lose my father and one of my best friends. And I know what she did was wrong, but after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t deserve this. She was frightened and desperate, and now...” Her voice cracked.
She shook her head and slid past him, wanting to go upstairs, to vanish to her room where she could bury herself in her tears. “I can’t do this.”
“Rachel.” He grabbed her arm, but she shook it off.
“Just go. I’m sure your coworkers are waiting for you. They’re probably wondering what’s taking you so long.” And with that, Rachel left him standing in the middle of her living room.