Riding on Instinct

by Burton, Jaci

  The doors opened at the lobby. Glad for the fresh air and the space, she walked out and turned to him. “You know, you’re absolutely right. We are nothing alike. Because I see the truth where you can’t.” She walked away.

  He grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to be alone.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t tell me no. You’re not my keeper.”

  He leaned in. “No, but I am your partner.”

  “Which doesn’t mean that I can’t go enjoy a meal by myself. Give me some space, Spence. I need some time to myself.”

  She jerked her arm away and walked out the front doors of the lobby, turned right, and headed up the street, not really knowing where she was going. But it was the French Quarter and restaurants were abundant. Within three blocks, she’d found a little café where she treated herself to a latte and a beignet, which she ate and drank inside the air-conditioned shop at one of the tables by the window. She enjoyed the bustle of tourists walking by as well as the time alone with her own thoughts.

  She’d certainly had a classy temper tantrum back at the hotel, hadn’t she? And for what purpose? Because Spence didn’t see things the same way she did?

  That shouldn’t come as a surprise to her, because he was right. They weren’t alike. They didn’t see the world in the same way. They didn’t come from the same background. The way she thought about their relationship may be entirely different from the way he thought about it. Which didn’t make her right and him wrong.

  She was getting too emotional, too wrapped up in thoughts of Spence the man instead of Spence the partner.

  That would have to stop.

  This was her first mission. She’d have to concentrate on acting more like an agent, and less like a . . . woman.

  Exactly the type of thing her father would accuse her of. That she was weak, emotional, that she couldn’t possibly hold up to the stresses and strains of a government job like a man could.

  Bullshit.

  She could do it, could separate her emotions from the job. The first thing that would have to go would be the sex. Too bad, because she’d really started to enjoy that part, figured it wasn’t harming anyone, wasn’t hurting the case, and in fact probably enhanced it. After all, she and Spence were supposed to be lovers. What better way to build on their cover than to actually act like lovers?

  But she obviously wasn’t going to be able to fuck someone she worked with and keep emotion out of the equation, so the sex was going to have to go out the window in favor of concentrating on her job. The last thing she wanted was to bomb her first assignment and ruin her career, all because she thought with her pussy and her emotions instead of her head.

  And if she got any more wrapped up in Spence, that’s exactly what might happen.

  Firmly resolved to make changes in her relationship with Spence, she finished up the last of her latte and went outside. The rev of a motorcycle engine behind her caught her attention. She turned and saw Spence parked on the corner.

  She walked over to him. “Did you follow me?”

  “Of course I did. I had to find you after I went to get my bike, but I drove around for a while until I saw you in the window.”

  This whole resolve thing would be a lot easier if he wasn’t always around. And sitting on the bike looking sexy as hell.

  “You gonna stand there and stare at me like that, or are you gonna climb on?”

  With a sigh, she got on the back of the bike. Spence throttled up and rode them out of the French Quarter, headed out of the downtown area, away from the tall buildings, and across the bridge. The cool air from Lake Pontchartrain provided blissful—if only temporary—relief from the oppressive heat. He took them up north around the lake and into the woods—deep into the woods, where families lived in white trailers nestled alongside one another like refugees.

  She knew what they were—survivors of Hurricane Katrina—people who’d lost their homes and everything else. They stayed and were waiting to rebuild. Some waited a very long time.

  Spence pulled down a dirt road where broken trees littered the landscape. He turned off the bike, and Shadoe climbed off to take a look around. Nothing along the landscape but trees that looked like they’d been haphazardly scooped up by a giant bulldozer and shoved miles along the dirt, shredding the terrain along the way.

  “Why are we here?” she asked, turning to see Spence standing on top of a mound.

  “You want to know why we have nothing in common? This is why.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I grew up here.”

  She whirled around, searching for a house. “Where?”

  “Right where you’re standing. This used to be a mobile home park. We rented one of those dinky ones. A one-bedroom. Trevor and I slept in the living room on a sofa bed.”

  She couldn’t imagine. “Where is the park now?”

  “It got swept away with the flood. Everything’s gone.”

  Her stomach dropped. “How do you know?”

  “I came back and worked here for a while afterward. To help out.” He wasn’t even looking at her now. “I had to do something. This was my home. Now it’s just dirt.”

  It wasn’t just dirt. There were memories that couldn’t be washed away. She couldn’t even fathom losing your home, everything that had once been your childhood. All those memories, gone in an instant.

  She moved to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. He jerked away and pivoted to face her.

  “I’m trying to make you understand, Shadoe. This was my life. Dirt as my backyard. No paved sidewalks. Not even my own room. Dogs barking. Crime everywhere. No big yellow school bus. No smiling parents. Nothing like what you had.”

  Her stomach clutched in pain for the child who had been denied love and tenderness. Despite what he thought . . . she knew. And it was time she shared her side with him.

  She found a fallen tree trunk and sat on it. “I had a beautiful home on two acres. I didn’t need the big yellow school bus because Daddy always drove me to school. He didn’t trust anyone else to do it, and my mother was always off doing . . . something else that she thought more important. When Daddy was on duty or for some reason couldn’t take me, Mother had one of the servants take care of me.

  “Because Daddy was a high-ranking military officer, security was always an issue. It wasn’t like I could play out on the street with other kids. We lived in an isolated area. Our property had fences—tall fences that I couldn’t see out of. Only the best for my father, you know. Mother hated it. She wanted to live in the city. She was from New York, a socialite. She’d moved to D.C. after she and my dad married, thinking he’d get out of the military and make a career in law or politics, not realizing that the military was my father’s choice of career.

  “She thought she could change him. But he came from a strong military background, one forged by his great-grandfather and followed by his father and his brothers. My mother, though strongwilled herself, didn’t stand a chance in changing a Grayson.”

  Spence had sat on the dirt in front of her. “And you ended up in the middle of it all.”

  She shrugged. “It was fine when I was at school. I managed to make a few friends.”

  “Yeah, I know how that is. It only got ugly when you went home.”

  “If he made her stay home, she drank. And when she drank, they argued. He didn’t want her to drink. Actually, there were a lot of things he didn’t want her to do.” She raised her gaze to his. “My father had a lot of rules.”

  “For you, too, I’ll bet.”

  She allowed a smile. “I broke his cardinal rule the day I was born. I wasn’t male. His brothers all had male children. He had a girl child. And, oh, how they tortured him about that. He never lived that down. I was his biggest failure and because they never let him forget it, he never let me forget it.”

  Spence picked up her hand. “Most men would be thrilled to have a daughter.”

  She laughed. “M
arshall Grayson isn’t most men. He was always outstanding in everything he did. And he got everything he wanted.”

  “Except a son.”

  She nodded. “He blamed my mother for that, too.”

  “Uh, doesn’t he understand how biology and genetics works?”

  “It didn’t matter. He wanted to try again for a son, but for some reason my mother never got pregnant. Personally, I think she hated him and couldn’t bear the thought of having another child with him. My guess is she took birth control pills and didn’t tell him. I wasn’t an easy pregnancy, and of course I ruined her figure, or so she told me over and over again. She said she’d never want to go through that again.”

  Spence rubbed her hand with his thumb. “Nice thing to say to a child.”

  She shrugged. “They never said nice things. I don’t really think they were aware what they said, or that words could hurt.”

  “But they still hurt, didn’t they?”

  She looked down at the ground. “Yeah, they did. You allow them to hurt you for a while, until you steel yourself against the words they hurl at you so they don’t have power over you any longer.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “How do you know that?”

  He had the decency to dip his gaze. “I peeked at your file. Figured you had read mine so I wanted to know who I was going to be working with.”

  She sighed. “Thief.”

  He grinned. “Well, yeah.”

  Then she laughed, unable to help herself.

  “Go on. Tell me more.”

  “Things got ugly right after my twelfth birthday. The arguments were growing worse; my mother took more and more trips away. I remember hearing them screaming at each other one night, so I crept out of my room and hid at the top of the stairs. My father said if she was going to be gone all the time, she might as well be gone permanently. Mother said that suited her just fine, but he wasn’t going to saddle her with me, because she wanted a fresh start—without a kid as baggage. She was still young, still beautiful, and she could start over again.”

  “Jesus, Shadoe.” Spence got up, moved to the tree trunk, and put his arm around her.

  She wanted to shake him off, but she craved the comfort. She hadn’t dredged up the ugliness of her past in a long time, had tried to bury it under ambition and school and determination to be the best at whatever she did. She rarely indulged in the pain, and when she did, she was always surprised to find it still as raw as ever. She had hoped time would heal.

  It never did.

  She leaned into him, unashamed at needing this—at needing him—even if it was only temporary.

  “What did your dad say?” he asked.

  “He told her to pack up her bags and get out. He’d give her a settlement, but that was all she’d get. She didn’t need the money, anyway. Her family had all the money she needed. All she wanted was her freedom. She didn’t need anything. Not my dad. Not the life she’d built with him.”

  It was still hard to say the words. “Not me.”

  Shit. The tears came despite her refusal to ever shed a tear over the bitch who’d given birth to her, the woman who may have given her life but who had never really wanted her.

  Spence folded her into his arms and caressed her hair, whispering against her ear. “It’s okay, babe. Let it go.”

  She clutched his shirt, buried her face against his chest, and sobbed. She cried for what seemed like forever, pouring out the pain she’d held in her heart since she was twelve years old, wondering why the mother she loved had never loved her back.

  She didn’t have answers then; she didn’t now. She never would.

  “Sometimes there are no answers,” Spence said, seemingly in answer to her unspoken thoughts. “Sometimes people are just really fucked-up, self-absorbed assholes, and their kids pay the price for it.”

  Shuddering, she sniffed and raised her head, knowing she must look a mess. “Some people shouldn’t be allowed to breed.”

  He smiled. “Amen to that, darlin’.” He swiped his thumb under her eyes. “I hate that they hurt you.”

  “I hate that they hurt you, too.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a big tough guy. I can take it.”

  “I’m a big tough girl. So can I. But at one time we were both just kids. And the people who were supposed to love us didn’t take care of us like they should.” She pushed back from him a bit so she could gather her balance, emotionally. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Spence. You might have this image of me as the princess in the ivory tower. And granted, I had a roof over my head and a hot meal for dinner every night. I had clothes to wear and a good education, so there’s no comparison as far as what you had to endure versus where I came from.”

  He started to say something, but she stopped him. “Let me finish first, please. What I think makes us alike is the hurt. The raw pain of not being loved when we needed it. Of feeling that maybe we failed somehow, that we didn’t deserve it.”

  She stood and began to pace, needing to get her thoughts in order before she messed this up. “When you opened up to me and told me your story about your childhood, it really hurt me. And the reason it hurt me was because I knew how it felt. No, I didn’t know how it felt to go hungry, or to have to resort to running the streets and stealing in order to survive, but I know how it feels to be thought of as less than worthy of love. You may think a lot of things about me, Spence, but you can’t take that away from me. I wasn’t loved.”

  He studied her for a few seconds, then stood and went over to her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “It’s nothing to wear like a badge of honor, Shadoe.”

  “We survived it, didn’t we? Look where we are in our lives. Look at the careers we have.”

  “True enough. We’re both survivors. We could have each ended up just like those who made us.”

  “But we haven’t, have we?”

  “No, darlin’. We haven’t.”

  “We’re alike in a lot of ways. And I hate when you push me away and try to go all solitary-man-on-the-mountain on me.”

  He cocked a brow. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You think you’re the only one who’s ever felt the way you feel. Well, you’re not. I hurt, too. I feel lonely, too.”

  “So what are you trying to say, Shadoe?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing she was losing sight of the big picture, that her emotions were getting the best of her again. “I don’t know, exactly. Only that I’m tired of feeling lonely. That I think with you I’ve found someone who could really understand where I’ve been and what I feel, and you want to be all tough guy and pretend not to give a shit. And that pisses me off.

  “The problem is, you do give a shit. I know you do.”

  He reached for her face, cupped her cheek. “I can’t give you what you need. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  She shuddered out a sigh. “That’s a knee-jerk reaction. I’m not asking for forever, Spence. You and I have futures elsewhere when this case is over. We both know that. But while we’re together, couldn’t we really be . . . together? Wouldn’t it be nice to just have a moment in time where we could both be a little less lonely?”

  His eyes were so filled with pain, the pain she felt, too.

  Come on, Spence. Just this one time, give in.

  “Don’t think about it, don’t analyze it, and don’t put a future stamp on it, because there isn’t one. It’s just right now, for these couple weeks or however long we have. We’re kindred. We understand each other. Let’s share each other while we have that time together.”

  He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw understanding in his eyes.

  Then he nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s do that.” He pulled her into his arms and laid his mouth on hers, brushing his lips across hers in a kiss so tender the tears sprang fresh in her eyes.

  This was the moment she wanted. It was all she wanted.

  The loneliness e
vaporated in an instant, just as it always did when Spence held her in his arms.

  THIRTEEN

  IT HAD BEEN A LOT OF YEARS SINCE SPENCE HAD ALLOWED himself to feel anything emotional. It was always safer to stay closed off. No one could hurt you that way. He’d learned that valuable lesson a long time ago.

  But hearing Shadoe’s story about her parents—her lunatic bitch of a mother who thought partying and society and her image were more important than raising her own child, and her regimented, idiotic father who thought the gender of one’s child actually mattered—it’s a wonder Shadoe had ended up as well-adjusted as she seemed to be. She was educated, vibrant, exciting, and any man would be damn lucky to have her in his life.

  She could have been really messed up by her childhood. Instead, she’d turned it around and decided to make herself worthwhile, not dependent upon needing a parent’s love or approval—though he figured she indirectly sought her father’s approval by the line of work she’d chosen. But he wasn’t going to get into that with her now.

  Not when he held her and her body felt good against his, not when he stood in this place that reminded him of hell, and she felt and smelled like heaven. Not when everything sweet about her could help erase everything horrible about his past.

  He inhaled her scent, obliterating the smell of dirt and destruction around him. No one was within miles of this place—no one came here anymore. They were completely alone.

  He let his hand drift down her back and deepened the kiss. His intent in dragging her into his arms hadn’t been sexual—not initially anyway. He’d only wanted to comfort her. But as usual, getting within close proximity of Shadoe, breathing her in, made him want to be inside her.

  She moaned against his lips, her hands roamed over his shoulders and down his arms, reaching for his fingers. Her grip was strong, her intention clear.

  She wanted this as much as he did, this joining they both often seemed so desperate for.

  He pulled away. “You sure? Here?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Now.”

  She was right—they were alike in a lot of ways, especially the need for sex without caring where they were or who might see them. He really liked that about her.