He studied her face, the way the firelight played over her pale complexion. He loved her features, her strong lines, her haunting pale-gray eyes, even the crooked scar across her mouth. The glow from the flames cast a rich copper hue on her red hair, which hung loose and thick over her shoulders. He thought of sex and turned away to look into the fire.
All he’d wanted was a quiet, rustic, romantic getaway, far from the city, far from the stresses of work, a chance to try to rekindle their nascent relationship, which was taking strain under the demands of Angie’s new line of private investigative work. He’d been under additional pressure himself as he took charge of and shaped the MVPD’s new integrated major incident team—or iMIT, as it was being called.
Instead they were here, camped in a freezing cold rain forest beside a skeletonized corpse. A wry smile tugged at his mouth. Perhaps it was fitting.
Perhaps the wobble in their relationship was his fault.
He’d suggested marriage at a bad time nine months ago, right on the back of Angie having narrowly escaped with her life when her father had abducted her and tried to kill her a second time. Just prior to that she’d lost her old partner and mentor, Hash Hashowsky, while on a call that had cost a toddler’s life. She was undergoing therapy for it all, working hard to cope with the PTSD, as she’d promised him she would, making every show of addressing it all head-on, grabbing hold with both hands and trying to beat it into submission, Angie style. Yet she remained scarred and probably always would be. You couldn’t just “get over” a past like hers. But it was her emotional distance—this subtle wall he could feel rising between them—that worried Maddocks. It was as though Angie was struggling with an insidious tension between her desire to be alone and her need for intimacy. Maddocks believed this inner battle was what had lain at the heart of her addiction to aggressive, anonymous sex.
“It was supposed to go down differently,” he said.
“What was?”
“This trip. Tonight.” He hesitated, then thought,What the hell. If this all blows up in my face, it’s better I know now rather than later.He reached into the inside pocket of his down jacket, and his fingers touched the slim fly box he’d been keeping there. It was warm against his body, under the down, near his heart. He took out the box and inhaled deeply, nerves suddenly fierce. “I ... wanted to make it official.”
Her gaze dropped to the little tackle box. She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
He opened the fly box. Nestled in foam that would ordinarily hold flies with hooks was a simple blue-white solitaire diamond set in platinum. The stone glinted in the firelight.
Her jaw dropped. Her gaze shot up to his face. Shock registered in her eyes.
“Marry me, Angie Pallorino.”
“You ... I ... you already asked me.”
“And you said you’d think about it. I don’t recall a proper hard-and-fastyes.” He sucked in another deep breath. “We’ve both been so busy we haven’t really managed to discuss it or make plans. That’s why I wanted some time away with you. I wanted to make it special, Ange. Official. With a ring. Set a wedding date.” He gave a soft snort. “I asked the chef at the lodge to prep a special dinner for us on this last night, to be served with that French wine you like. A fire was to be lit in our room, hot tub bubbling on the deck. Some real lodge luxury after three nights of riverside camping. But here we are instead, guarding a decaying corpse.” He smiled. “Typical, eh?”
She stared at the diamond nestled in the foam. Emotion glittered into her eyes. Wind gusted, fluttering the strips of flagging tape they’d secured to the cordon around the grave site.
“I ... don’t know what to say.”
Disquiet feathered into him. He remained silent as he watched her study the ring without touching it. Tension tightened her features, and her lips pressed into a thin line as though she was struggling to keep her emotions in check, battling with what to say next. And all over again he felt he was going to lose her. He felt vulnerable, laid bare, raw to the wind.
Afraid.
You could say yes.
He cleared his throat and said slowly, “You wanted this trip, right? Some romantic time together?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Something romantic, but ... I ... I didn’t know you hadthisin mind.”
“I’ve upset you.”
She swallowed, her nose going pink. She wiped her hand across her mouth.
“Look at me, Angie.Talkto me.”
Carefully, she raised her eyes. What he saw in them clutched at his heart.
“Maybe we should wait, Maddocks,” she said. “Until I’ve got enough supervised hours under my belt, until I start my own PI agency.”
“Why? Why wait?”
Silence.
“Angie?”
“Once I’ve got it all squared away, you know? I’ll be in a better place to plan for this. Once—”
