Or maybe he was just trying to be considerate and let her sleep.
She didn’t want to start out their relationship by sneaking around listening to his phone calls. He’d share when he was ready. Trust went both ways, after all. With that decided, she turned to tiptoe into the kitchen. She’d flip on the light switch to let him know that she was awake. But his next words stopped her in her tracks.
“Mick’s not talking, and Jenna hasn’t learned anything new. If she were planning to turn in any kind of evidence, she would have done it by now. He’s probably keeping her in check for his own reasons.”
Tara started to shake. He was keeping tabs on Jenna and Mick? She stood rooted in place, unable to walk away.
“He did what?” Colin asked, his voice rising. “Sorry.” He spoke more softly. “What did the police say?”
He was silent for a minute and she strained closer to hear. She could see the heel of his right foot peeking out from behind the blinds, so at least he was facing away from her. Keeping tabs on his position, she waited anxiously for him to speak again.
“Okay, I can do that.”
His feet turned suddenly, and when she looked up at him, he was peering at her through the screen door. Their eyes met and he frowned. “Tara, what— Shit. I have a problem. I’ll call you back.”
He yanked open the slider, his face a mask of anger. He was mad?
She didn’t back away when he entered the living room. Instead she put her hands on her hips and faced him down. “What the hell is going on?”
His anger morphed into a look of regret. “It’s not what you think.”
“So you’re not spying on Mick and Jenna?” She hesitated as another thought occurred to her. “And using me for information?”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Okay, well, it’s kind of what you think.” With one finger, he lifted her chin and caught her eye. “But I was not using you for information. Using what I learned from you, yes. Using you? Never.”
Semantics—and totally irrelevant besides. Why did she suck so much at choosing men? Maybe she should join a convent. “You were lying to me.”
She stalked into the bedroom and slid into her jeans before grabbing her overnight bag and purse. He followed and stood in the doorway, filling it with his large frame.
“Tara, wait.”
She tried to push past him, but he didn’t budge.
A trickle of fear slid down her spine. “Colin, let me go.”
She dropped her bags and pummeled him with her fists, but he was too big, too strong. He caught her knee before it connected with his groin and pressed her up against the wall. For the first time since she’d met him, his size scared her. He could snap her like a twig without even trying.
The large hands that had caressed her so tenderly just hours before gripped her tightly, holding her immobile. “Stop fighting, honey. Just listen.”
She quit struggling, but not because she stopped being scared. She would save her energy in case he let his guard down. He had her trapped right now and she would only wear herself out if she kept fighting him.
“That’s better,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Turning her face away, she squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. “Forgive me if I’m no longer inclined to believe you,” she said into his shoulder.
He released her and backed away, positioning himself between her and the exit. “Sit on the bed.”
“Or what?” Would he kill her? Beat her? Take by force what she had so freely given him over the last five days? She shivered.
“Damn it, Tara, just sit.”
Giving him a wide berth, she sat on the edge of the firm mattress.
He crouched in front of her, rubbed his face with his hands, and let out a weary sigh. “Look, I can’t always tell you about my job. That’s par for the course. And it’s especially true in this case, since you know Mick and Jenna.”
“Why are you watching them?”
“I can’t tell you that,” he said, his face full of regret that she didn’t buy for one minute.
A scarier thought occurred to her. “Did you blow up Jenna’s house?”
“According to the police that was an accident.”
Oh my God. “That doesn’t answer my question.” She stood up and tried to move past him.
“Where are you going?” He held her elbow firmly.
“Home.” She let him see the fear that was surely on her face and the tears welling in her eyes. “I just want to go home.”
He pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear and gave her a sad look. “I can’t let you do that.”
The next morning, Mick tucked Jenna close against him and kissed her hair, inhaling deeply. He couldn’t stop touching her, even though guilt had settled over him like a fog. What would Rob think if he were alive? He’d want to kick my ass.
But Jenna was right. She was a grown woman who could make her own choices. She knew Mick, knew what he was like. Hell, maybe women weren’t always looking for Prince Charming to sweep them away and live happily ever after. Hadn’t she said she was tired of being the good girl?
The spark between them had been there for years. Why was it wrong for them to finally give in to it?
For the first time in ages, he had spent the whole night with a woman after sex. Actually slept with her. Like he had that first night, except now she was nestled naked in his arms, all soft and warm.
His biggest concern was that he might never want to leave the bed. She was the only woman who’d ever had him thinking it might not be so bad to stick around. The idea scared him to death, but something needed to change in his piece-of-shit life. Maybe Jenna was the key.
He couldn’t believe he was thinking about starting a relationship—a real relationship, for Christ’s sake—with this woman. He wasn’t sure he dared. God knew he didn’t deserve her. Still, he had to try. He wanted to keep her close, but he couldn’t do that with this secret thick like a wall between them.
Mick looked down at her, and the urge to wake her and spill everything he knew overwhelmed him. Maybe if he told her part of it, she’d quit arguing with him. Or would she hate him for waiting so long? But she already knew he was keeping things from her, and she was still here, in his bed. Naked and beautiful.
Jesus, he wanted her again. Couldn’t imagine ever not wanting her.
But how could he expect more if he was still holding back? She didn’t need to know everything, just the key parts. As he warmed to the idea, his shoulders relaxed, the tension he’d been carrying around for days slowly draining away.
There was risk in telling her. Risk that she would hate him for what he had to say. Risk that she would pull away. But he lived for risk, didn’t he? Thrived on it.
He was starting to think that she would be in danger whether she knew the truth or not. Someone had decided she and Mick were a problem. Jenna ought to know why. Or at least the important elements of it. Then they could figure out how to move forward together.
In the early morning glow she looked like an angel, her pale hair spread over his arm, those alluring freckles contrasting against her nose and cheeks like a negative of stars in the night sky. His chest squeezed in fear as he felt the perfect moment slipping from his grasp.
Afraid to break the spell, he held her until she awoke an hour later. When she finally opened her eyes, he kissed her neck and smoothed his palm along her arm. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Mm hmm.” She turned to face him, tucking her arms against her chest and pulling the sheet up to her neck.
He kissed her softly. She returned the kiss, but pulled away quickly and stared at his chest. What was that all about?
“Mick.”
Was there a note of regret in her voice? Please, no. Before he could lose his nerve, he took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He ached to smooth her hair away from her face, tilt up her chin, and lose himself in her soft lips, but he needed to get thi
s over with. Keeping his hand firmly planted on her hip so he wouldn’t scare her off, he waited until she looked at him. “I think you’re right. You deserve to know what happened to Rob.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and something he didn’t understand flashed across her face. If he didn’t know better he would have called it guilt. Maybe she felt bad about badgering him for so long. Maybe it was unease or fear of the unknown. Maybe after all of their fighting, she was actually afraid of what he had to say.
“Are you sure you’re ready for it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, clutching the sheet tighter to her body.
He didn’t want to break contact with her, but he couldn’t talk about something this serious while lying down. He rolled onto his back and sat up, covering his lap with the sheet and resting his forearms on his bent knees. She followed suit, wrapping the comforter over her shoulders.
“I still can’t give you details about the firefight, okay? That part isn’t relevant to what’s going on anyway.” He glanced at her to catch her nod of understanding before continuing. She’d probably agree to anything to keep him talking. “There was a point when we needed everyone to stop shooting.
“Rob and I were going up and down the line shouting at them to stop. I had to jump up on Colin’s truck to get his attention. Rob did the same thing with Smitty.” Adrenaline made him jittery, as if he were back in that hellhole, the deafening sound of gunfire exploding around him.
Understanding began to dawn on Jenna’s face even before he finished his story, but he pushed forward, his throat tight. “Smitty turned his fifty-cal and shot Rob in the chest.” He held her shocked gaze, helpless to stop the tears that trailed down her cheeks.
“I couldn’t save him. I tried, but…” He couldn’t finish that thought. She didn’t need to know how bad it had been. “I swear to God it never occurred to me that it might be anything but an accident until this whole smuggling thing came to light.”
“Now I understand why you were so mad at Smitty last night,” she whispered. “I almost wish I hadn’t tried to stop you from hurting him.”
She covered her mouth then, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Cursing himself for bringing her more pain—even though she’d asked for it—he pulled her back against his chest, wrapping the bedspread around her so she wouldn’t feel like he was taking advantage of her nakedness. She burrowed into his arms.
He held her tightly and buried his face in her hair, pretending he wasn’t taking as much comfort as he was giving. “I’m so sorry, honey. I would have given anything to bring him back to you.” He would have given up this time with her, even his own sorry life.
She hugged him close while she cried, but then tugged out of his arms. “Thank you for telling me,” she said.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you going to be all right?” Stupid question, but he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want her to leave the bed. He wanted to rock her beneath him until they both forgot—even if only briefly—about murder and death and the threats that lurked beyond these walls.
Instead, she nodded and scrambled from the bed without making eye contact. “I need a shower.”
He considered following her, but when the door locked with a loud click, he rolled back onto his pillow. How could he blame her? She’d just discovered that her brother had been shot by one of his own teammates, possibly intentionally murdered, and Mick still had sex on the brain.
Twenty minutes later, Jenna came out in jeans and a crew-neck shirt, all covered up. Her damp hair curled around her scrubbed face, giving her a young, innocent look. “Your turn,” she said, heading for the door to the living room without looking at him.
“Hey.” He leaped from the bed, not even bothering to throw on his boxers, and snagged her hand. “Are we okay?”
She met his gaze briefly before looking away, a slight frown drawing her lips down.
“Are you having second thoughts?” No, no, no, no. He’d denied himself for too damn long to give her up after one night. “If this is about Rob—“
“It’s not.”
If not Rob, then what? Did she think he was using her for sex? “Baby, you’re beautiful and sexy, and last night was amazing. You’re not a one-night stand to me, Jenna. You have to know that.” He leaned in to kiss her, to reassure both of them, but she stepped back.
Oh, shit.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” she said. “I’ll make breakfast.”
He watched in shock as she shut the door behind her. What the hell was going on?
He took the fastest shower on record and dressed with Superman speed, the smell of something frying drawing a rumble from his stomach.
Jenna was laying out ham and egg sandwiches when he walked out of the bedroom. “Do you want coffee?” she asked.
“Not until we talk,” he said, blocking her way out of the horseshoe-shaped kitchen.
She tried to squeeze past him, but he caught her waist in his hands. She instantly went limp, eyes down, hands at her sides. Not quite the response he’d expected from the wild woman who’d shared his bed last night.
“Jenna, you’re scaring me here. I just had one of the best nights of my life and I could have sworn you enjoyed yourself too.” At least his words got a blush out of her. That was a good start. “Why are you running away now?”
“I’m sorry.” She stared at her feet. “I…I enjoyed last night too. I don’t regret it, but I think we should sleep in separate beds again.”
Her words hit him like a shot to the chest. Was this how it felt to be used? “Can you at least tell me why you’re having this sudden change of heart?”
Hugging her arms around herself, she chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds and then looked up him. “If we hadn’t slept together, would you have still told me about Smitty?”
He jerked back, mind reeling. Would he have? “I don’t know. Last night changed things.” He met her gaze. “At least for me.”
“Is that what you were holding out for? I’ve been hounding you for days, and all it took was a roll in the sack?” She gave a derisive snort. “If I’d known it was going to be that easy, I wouldn’t have waited so long.”
“It wasn’t like that.” His heart skipped painfully. How could he make her see? “I wasn’t planning on telling you, but when we…took things to the next level, holding back didn’t feel right.” He shifted toward her, tantalized by her familiar scent, aching to touch her.
“But you’re still not telling me everything. There has to be more to the story or you wouldn’t have felt so strongly about keeping it from me.”
Good God, seriously? He stifled a sigh. “For your safety and mine, there will always be things I can’t tell you. I can’t talk about some of the places Rob and I went as PJs, and I can’t give you more details than I already have about the day he died. That’s just the way it is.”
She cast her eyes down. “I’m not sure I can live with that.”
Adrenaline rushed through him. He wanted to shake her. Why the hell had she jumped into bed with him then? Before he’d told her about Smitty? If he didn’t know her better he would have thought she’d set the whole thing up to get the truth out of him.
He stilled as he processed that thought. Could it be? What had she said? If I’d known it was going to be that easy, I wouldn’t have waited so long. Had she played him?
But, no, this was Jenna. She might have grown tired enough of her straight-arrow reputation to seduce him, but she’d never be so underhanded. More likely she’d just realized what he’d known all along: He wasn’t good enough for her. He could never be the sane, stable kind of man she deserved.
And so he’d never again watch her come apart in his arms while he filled her to the hilt. He’d finally had a taste of the one woman who could convince him to stick around, and she didn’t want him.
Karma really was a bitch.
Pressing back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, Jenna watched Mick stalk into his
room. Her plan had worked too well—particularly since she’d decided she couldn’t go through with it. Their lovemaking had been too special to tarnish like that.
Too bad she was lying to him now. About her feelings, her motives for sleeping with him, and her reasons for not sleeping with him again. What she hadn’t planned on was how hurt he’d be. If she didn’t know better, she might believe that he actually wanted more than sex from her.
More likely he was just hoping for a few more days of it. Mick was nothing if not a smooth talker.
He cared. She knew that. And he’d been such a generous lover. Even more so than she’d expected. But she would never be dumb enough to get her hopes up for more than that, and she couldn’t fall into bed with him again. Not after she’d taken advantage of him.
Her fists clenched as she replayed the confrontation in the bar. If she’d known last night that Smitty was responsible for Rob’s death, she might have attacked him herself. How had Mick managed to hold himself back?
Was Smitty involved in the smuggling ring, or had it been nothing more than an accident, what they called friendly fire? The words ricocheted through her brain like bullets. Friendly. Fire. Her breath stalled, and her heart squeezed. Could there be a dumber name for it? As if shots from your own side were something you’d welcome. Like a hug.
A few rounds to the chest were the least friendly thing she could imagine.
If Smitty had killed Rob on purpose, how would they ever prove it? Mick hadn’t told her everything about that day; he’d admitted that much. He’d also said that the rest of the story wasn’t relevant, but how could she be sure?
If only she knew what he was so worried about.
Argh. This whole ordeal was driving her mad. She dialed Tara at work to see if she could meet for lunch. Talking things out with her friend always made her feel better. Mick would just have to get over tracking her everywhere she went. He could wait in the car or something.
“Tara Fujimoto’s desk,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice answered.
“Uh, I’m calling for Tara. Is she there?”
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