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“Is that what we are? Fuck buddies?” That hurt to ask more than I care to admit.
Feelings are developing.
Feelings that scare the shit out of me, and not all my fear derives from Henley’s age.
I’m petrified of the same thing that happened to my wife happening to her.
Caroline didn’t die of natural causes. She was killed by a man seeking revenge. He killed two dozen women in under a month, and the feds have nothing on him.
He is a ghost.
A myth.
The reason I’ve been so paranoid about letting anyone in.
He killed the partners of FBI agents to make them suffer as he did, yet we can’t find a single connection between the families targeted. We didn’t work in the same unit, never attended the same raids. Even the academies we studied at are different.
The attacks would appear random if it weren’t for the messages he left at each scene.
You took my love, so I took yours.
But do you know what is even more concerning than that? Wondering if you’re good enough for someone to make the sacrifice for a second time. Caroline knew the risks. She came into our relationship willingly, but with things not so great between us before she died, was she still happy with her decision in her final hours?
I want to say yes, but I’m not as confident as I used to be.
And then there’s Henley—beautiful, sweet, young Henley—who hasn’t had the chance to meet the man I was before I became a widow. I’m not fun anymore. I am not playful. I’m a damn grump, but Henley can’t seem to get enough.
Even staring at me now, waiting for me to look at her so she can answer my question, her eyes drink me in like not all my good points died with Caroline. Like I still have so much to offer.
I do. I just need to get over my fear of losing—both in the not winning sense and loss.
I’m trying, but it is the equivalent of teaching an old dog new tricks.
Slow.
Once Henley’s eyes return to my face and she realizes she has my attention, she answers, “I’m not exactly sure what we are. I… ah…” After a big breath, she rips off the Band-Aid in one quick motion. “Things changed the night I acted on impulse instead of fear, but I can’t pinpoint what changed for you. I love Lucy, but she’s a little off the mark on who she thinks was scared that night.”
Her blonde brow shoots up high when I reply, “She wasn’t. I was so scared about what I might stumble onto, you weren’t shaking until you got on the bike with me.” I intertwine my fingers together before lowering my eyes to them. With Henley’s hormones out of whack, this probably isn’t the best time for the conversation, but I can’t hold back. “I was petrified I was going to be too late again.” A ghost of a grin etches onto my mouth when I realize how smart my daughter is. “And that fear was just as strong the morning after when I learned you wanted to leave.”
“I didn’t want to leave, Brodie. But I had no right to stay. I wasn’t assigned—” Her words halt when the landline buzzing into the room interrupts her.
For the first time in days, her expression turns fretful when it dawns on her what the noise is. She looks desperate to beat me to the phone, which only increases the length of my strides.
I want to protect her as fiercely as she’s been protecting Lucy. That’s why I didn’t bring up the murders of the men who walked her out of Aeros. She doesn’t remember much about that night, so I’ve kept the burden of their deaths on my shoulders.
It’s the least I can do after she saved me from making mistakes that Lucy may have never forgiven me for.
“Hello—”
“Out of respect for your daughter, I’m calling to give you a common courtesy any agent should get.”
“Who is this?” I ask, the voice familiar but not enough for me to make a guess. It is also muffled, like they don’t want their identity exposed.
“It isn’t the pope.” Her next sentence gives her away. “Although he might be tempted to pop in to sample your breakfast spread.” Agent Macy Machini gets back on track as quickly as she veered off it. “They have a suspect on the murders from last week. Things are being kept hush-hush, but when I make a promise, I don’t care how much time passes between pledges. If I give you my word, you have it until one of us is in the ground.”
I look at the time, the stairwell to make sure there aren’t any little shadows, then over at Henley standing mute at my side, before asking, “What does this have to do with me?”
