He didn’t even blink. “You were told not to come here. I want you gone. Now.”
Don’t you just wish, buddy. “I came to talk with you.”
“No.” He moved toward her, and she had no doubt he’d grab her by the hair to haul her off to her car.
“Damn you,” she said, not exactly under her breath, and edged behind the bench. “If you won’t talk, you can listen.” You beloved asshole. “This is my home now. You and Vance insisted. Brought all my stuff here. Moved me in. And now, just because there’s danger, you kick me out.”
His fingers tightened on the buffing cloth as he stalked around the bench. “Because you could be killed.”
“You didn’t even have the courtesy to talk with me about it. Just—get out, Sally.” Her voice wavered as she remembered the hurt.
Under the thin white T-shirt, Galen’s powerful shoulders were rigid. His angular jaw was tight. “Vance wasn’t gentle with you, Sally, and I’m sorry for that.”
She had a moment of hope. “That’s all right, but—”
“Now that I’ve apologized, get your ass back to Gabi’s house.”
“No.” Hey, if he could use one-word sentences, so could she. Just to drive home the point, she added, “I live here. I’m going to my room.”
Even as she turned, his brows drew together into a straight black line.
She got two steps out the door before being yanked back into the cabana. “You will go back to Gabi’s.” His hands tightened on her shoulders, and he gave her a shake. “It’s not safe for you here.”
“It’s not safe for you either, Mr. Hotshot FBI Agent.” She realized her voice had risen. “I’m not going anywhere unless you do too.”
“This is my job.”
“No, dumb-ass, this is where you live!” From the startled look on his face, she must have shouted that. She waved her hand at the room. “Does this look like a downtown office? No, it does not.”
A muscle danced in his cheek, and his grip on her shoulders turned painful. “Sally, Somerfeld’s brother wants revenge. He’s killed two cops—and their families with them. He—”
“I know that, Galen. Six people total if you count the woman from the cabin.” She pursed her lips. “Actually, I think he did all the arson jobs. Even though the Association was countrywide, all the arson deaths were concentrated in the northeast area. If you look at the map I made, you’ll—”
“What map?”
“Oh, please, do you really think I can’t access any information I want?”
“Hell, I forgot who I was talking to.” His hands eased slightly. “Then you know—”
“I know he’s never left the northeast. He’s brilliant but crazier than a hoot owl. I know it’s still not one hundred percent safe.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “I also know I love you. This is where I belong.”
“Fuck!” He stalked away from her and punched the wall.
Seriously? She thought that only happened in movies. He’d actually put a hole in the wall she’d spent so much time painting.
He punched another hole and turned. “I will not have another woman die because of me. Because of what I do.”
His anger threatened to flatten her like dry cornstalks in a gale wind. Her back hit the door.
“You will get your ass out of here, and you will stay away.”
“Forever?” she whispered. When grief darkened his eyes, she realized this mess had awakened his nightmares…and the idiot planned to push her all the way out of his life. “But you love me.”
“That. Is. Irrelevant.”
“That is not irrelevant.” She stomped forward, kicked his toolbox out of her way, and punched him in the chest with all her might. Took satisfaction in the grunt—though ow! Had she broken her thumb? “You’re just scared.”
He bit back an automatic denial—such a guy—and nodded. “I am. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.”
“Instead you’ll rip my heart right out of my chest?” She punched him again and sucked in air against the flash of pain.
He grabbed her wrist and hauled her closer. “At least you’ll be alive.”
“If I’m alive, I want to live. I can’t live inside a cocoon, Galen.” She glared up into his eyes. “Do you think you’re the only person who worries about a lover dying? Who had someone they love die? Because of something they did?”
Shock spread over his face as he realized she was talking about her mother. “Sally…”
“You can stay inside your cocoon, all wrapped up tight until you shrivel down to nothing.” She opened her palm. “But I want to spread my wings—and love. You worked with me to be sure guilt didn’t rule my life. You need to help yourself now.”
His jaw stayed tight.
“I love you so much, you dumb-ass.” She took the last step—and, thanks to him, the words came easily. Yes, she could ask. “Let me stay. Please.”
“God fucking dammit,” he said under his breath and pulled her into his arms.
And it felt as if she’d come home.
After a minute, he said, “But would you just—”
“No.”
“Maybe for only—”
“No.”
“Vance and I spank submissives who say no to us,” he muttered.
“Okay.” Because in order to spank her, she had to be right there, within reach. And that was exactly where she intended to stay.
He pulled her up and kissed her neck before shaking his head. “I love you, but not even you can plant yourself in the middle of an FBI case. You’ll get us fired, pet.”
Oh. She hadn’t thought of that one. “Maybe getting you fired would be a good thing.” Jeez, maybe it was.
“I’d rather it be my decision, thanks,” he said in a dry voice. “So, we’ll talk for a bit. But if NYPD hasn’t picked up Somerfeld in the next hour, you’re going back to safety.”
She eyed him. No, he wouldn’t give way on this, but the unreasonableness was gone. He wasn’t operating out of old fears, but logic. And she could live with that. “It’s a deal.”
FROM THE BACK door, Vance listened. He and Galen had installed excellent soundproofing in the cabana—he’d barely been able to hear the yelling.
And now nothing.
Hopefully, they were fucking up a storm. Makeup sex. He grinned as he started to harden. With luck they’d get a call in a minute or two that New York had Somerfeld in custody. If so, a victory fuck would be in order.
If NYPD didn’t call, the imp’s time would be up. He’d have to drag Sally out and stuff her in her car.
Meantime—he snorted—he was guard dog.
His cell chimed, reminding him to make the scheduled check-in call. Vance hit the number for the office. “Still alive. How are the guys doing out by the turnoff?”
“They’re just fine, Vance.” Hazel was around seventy and undoubtedly had won Mother of the Year when her children were young. “How is your back?”
“All healed. I’m going stir-crazy, being shut in.”
She sniffed, unimpressed, as if he’d whined about a snow day. “You just settle down. And tell that boy to be careful as well.”
Choking on a laugh, he assured her that he’d tell the boy. If Galen heard that… Then again, his partner adored the old woman. Fuck knew, she acted more like a mother than Galen’s real one.
A few minutes later, his cell rang. The stakeout team reported an elderly woman had taken the lakeshore drive. One of the neighbors.
To stave off the urge to go to Galen and Sally, he went out the front. They hadn’t checked the mail earlier. After pulling on a coat to cover his shoulder holster, he walked onto the front porch. Nothing. Couldn’t even see the neighbor’s houses through the dense surrounding growth. No cars. No people. All quiet.
He glanced at his watch. Somerfeld, do your airport check-in. I want this over.
His skin felt as if the air was filled with sand. Nerves.
It was a nice day; he should make an effort to enjoy it. As he ambled to the mailbox at the end of their U-shaped drive, he watched the brilliantly white puffy clouds float across the sky. No thunderclouds…yet. Chances were good they’d appear later in the day. The summer rainstorms had started up.
As he unlocked the metal mailbox, he grinned at the memory of Sally’s insults about paranoid Feds. He pulled out a nice haul of letters and flyers.
A car appeared, slowly moving down the road. The gray-haired driver gave him a wide smile. It was his nearest neighbor, Mrs. Childress.
He stepped over to the car and glanced in the backseat—just in case. “Ma’am, how are you today?”
“I’m fine, dear. I was going to call you later. How nice to see you in person. We’re having a small barbecue next week on Saturday. I hope you and Galen and Sally will come.” The elderly couple had met Sally when she was on the lake, fishing with Galen. Like everyone else, they’d fallen for the imp.
“We’d be delighted.” Somerfeld had damn well better be safely behind bars by then.
Don’t you just wish, buddy. “I came to talk with you.”
“No.” He moved toward her, and she had no doubt he’d grab her by the hair to haul her off to her car.
“Damn you,” she said, not exactly under her breath, and edged behind the bench. “If you won’t talk, you can listen.” You beloved asshole. “This is my home now. You and Vance insisted. Brought all my stuff here. Moved me in. And now, just because there’s danger, you kick me out.”
His fingers tightened on the buffing cloth as he stalked around the bench. “Because you could be killed.”
“You didn’t even have the courtesy to talk with me about it. Just—get out, Sally.” Her voice wavered as she remembered the hurt.
Under the thin white T-shirt, Galen’s powerful shoulders were rigid. His angular jaw was tight. “Vance wasn’t gentle with you, Sally, and I’m sorry for that.”
She had a moment of hope. “That’s all right, but—”
“Now that I’ve apologized, get your ass back to Gabi’s house.”
“No.” Hey, if he could use one-word sentences, so could she. Just to drive home the point, she added, “I live here. I’m going to my room.”
Even as she turned, his brows drew together into a straight black line.
She got two steps out the door before being yanked back into the cabana. “You will go back to Gabi’s.” His hands tightened on her shoulders, and he gave her a shake. “It’s not safe for you here.”
“It’s not safe for you either, Mr. Hotshot FBI Agent.” She realized her voice had risen. “I’m not going anywhere unless you do too.”
“This is my job.”
“No, dumb-ass, this is where you live!” From the startled look on his face, she must have shouted that. She waved her hand at the room. “Does this look like a downtown office? No, it does not.”
A muscle danced in his cheek, and his grip on her shoulders turned painful. “Sally, Somerfeld’s brother wants revenge. He’s killed two cops—and their families with them. He—”
“I know that, Galen. Six people total if you count the woman from the cabin.” She pursed her lips. “Actually, I think he did all the arson jobs. Even though the Association was countrywide, all the arson deaths were concentrated in the northeast area. If you look at the map I made, you’ll—”
“What map?”
“Oh, please, do you really think I can’t access any information I want?”
“Hell, I forgot who I was talking to.” His hands eased slightly. “Then you know—”
“I know he’s never left the northeast. He’s brilliant but crazier than a hoot owl. I know it’s still not one hundred percent safe.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “I also know I love you. This is where I belong.”
“Fuck!” He stalked away from her and punched the wall.
Seriously? She thought that only happened in movies. He’d actually put a hole in the wall she’d spent so much time painting.
He punched another hole and turned. “I will not have another woman die because of me. Because of what I do.”
His anger threatened to flatten her like dry cornstalks in a gale wind. Her back hit the door.
“You will get your ass out of here, and you will stay away.”
“Forever?” she whispered. When grief darkened his eyes, she realized this mess had awakened his nightmares…and the idiot planned to push her all the way out of his life. “But you love me.”
“That. Is. Irrelevant.”
“That is not irrelevant.” She stomped forward, kicked his toolbox out of her way, and punched him in the chest with all her might. Took satisfaction in the grunt—though ow! Had she broken her thumb? “You’re just scared.”
He bit back an automatic denial—such a guy—and nodded. “I am. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.”
“Instead you’ll rip my heart right out of my chest?” She punched him again and sucked in air against the flash of pain.
He grabbed her wrist and hauled her closer. “At least you’ll be alive.”
“If I’m alive, I want to live. I can’t live inside a cocoon, Galen.” She glared up into his eyes. “Do you think you’re the only person who worries about a lover dying? Who had someone they love die? Because of something they did?”
Shock spread over his face as he realized she was talking about her mother. “Sally…”
“You can stay inside your cocoon, all wrapped up tight until you shrivel down to nothing.” She opened her palm. “But I want to spread my wings—and love. You worked with me to be sure guilt didn’t rule my life. You need to help yourself now.”
His jaw stayed tight.
“I love you so much, you dumb-ass.” She took the last step—and, thanks to him, the words came easily. Yes, she could ask. “Let me stay. Please.”
“God fucking dammit,” he said under his breath and pulled her into his arms.
And it felt as if she’d come home.
After a minute, he said, “But would you just—”
“No.”
“Maybe for only—”
“No.”
“Vance and I spank submissives who say no to us,” he muttered.
“Okay.” Because in order to spank her, she had to be right there, within reach. And that was exactly where she intended to stay.
He pulled her up and kissed her neck before shaking his head. “I love you, but not even you can plant yourself in the middle of an FBI case. You’ll get us fired, pet.”
Oh. She hadn’t thought of that one. “Maybe getting you fired would be a good thing.” Jeez, maybe it was.
“I’d rather it be my decision, thanks,” he said in a dry voice. “So, we’ll talk for a bit. But if NYPD hasn’t picked up Somerfeld in the next hour, you’re going back to safety.”
She eyed him. No, he wouldn’t give way on this, but the unreasonableness was gone. He wasn’t operating out of old fears, but logic. And she could live with that. “It’s a deal.”
FROM THE BACK door, Vance listened. He and Galen had installed excellent soundproofing in the cabana—he’d barely been able to hear the yelling.
And now nothing.
Hopefully, they were fucking up a storm. Makeup sex. He grinned as he started to harden. With luck they’d get a call in a minute or two that New York had Somerfeld in custody. If so, a victory fuck would be in order.
If NYPD didn’t call, the imp’s time would be up. He’d have to drag Sally out and stuff her in her car.
Meantime—he snorted—he was guard dog.
His cell chimed, reminding him to make the scheduled check-in call. Vance hit the number for the office. “Still alive. How are the guys doing out by the turnoff?”
“They’re just fine, Vance.” Hazel was around seventy and undoubtedly had won Mother of the Year when her children were young. “How is your back?”
“All healed. I’m going stir-crazy, being shut in.”
She sniffed, unimpressed, as if he’d whined about a snow day. “You just settle down. And tell that boy to be careful as well.”
Choking on a laugh, he assured her that he’d tell the boy. If Galen heard that… Then again, his partner adored the old woman. Fuck knew, she acted more like a mother than Galen’s real one.
A few minutes later, his cell rang. The stakeout team reported an elderly woman had taken the lakeshore drive. One of the neighbors.
To stave off the urge to go to Galen and Sally, he went out the front. They hadn’t checked the mail earlier. After pulling on a coat to cover his shoulder holster, he walked onto the front porch. Nothing. Couldn’t even see the neighbor’s houses through the dense surrounding growth. No cars. No people. All quiet.
He glanced at his watch. Somerfeld, do your airport check-in. I want this over.
His skin felt as if the air was filled with sand. Nerves.
It was a nice day; he should make an effort to enjoy it. As he ambled to the mailbox at the end of their U-shaped drive, he watched the brilliantly white puffy clouds float across the sky. No thunderclouds…yet. Chances were good they’d appear later in the day. The summer rainstorms had started up.
As he unlocked the metal mailbox, he grinned at the memory of Sally’s insults about paranoid Feds. He pulled out a nice haul of letters and flyers.
A car appeared, slowly moving down the road. The gray-haired driver gave him a wide smile. It was his nearest neighbor, Mrs. Childress.
He stepped over to the car and glanced in the backseat—just in case. “Ma’am, how are you today?”
“I’m fine, dear. I was going to call you later. How nice to see you in person. We’re having a small barbecue next week on Saturday. I hope you and Galen and Sally will come.” The elderly couple had met Sally when she was on the lake, fishing with Galen. Like everyone else, they’d fallen for the imp.
“We’d be delighted.” Somerfeld had damn well better be safely behind bars by then.
