Drake snorted over the line. “Good luck with that, man. And you should protect your balls. I’ll see you soon.”
The line went dead as he heard the beep as the door opened.
She was here, and he was about to start his life again.
He’d been wrong to try to trick her. He should have been upfront and honest with her about Julia and how dangerous the situation was. She would have understood.
She was talking to West, but he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. Would she see the present he’d left her on the bar and know he was here?
Spicy girl. One day I’ll show you how hot you can be.
He’d said those words to her the day before he “died.” The day before Julia had blown up the world again. He’d been ready to start their lives together after a year of circling warily around each other. They’d become friends, and he’d never meant to be more, but somehow this one woman had become the whole fucking world to him.
He loved Mae Beatrice Vaughn, and he wasn’t going to let Julia ruin that for either of them. Mae needed him and he needed her, and once he’d taken care of the situation he was going to marry her and they were going to have whatever weird amazing life they could.
“You’re getting so damn good at this, girl,” that dumbass cowboy player was saying. “Pretty soon you’ll be the one protecting me.”
Sure she would. She would never see that asshole again after tonight. West was getting kicked out of here in a few moments.
“Somehow I doubt that.” She was walking toward him, her voice rising as she crossed the space between them. “I’ll be right back.”
He stood in the darkest corner of her room as the door opened and he got his first look at her. She’d changed her hair color. It was brown now, and he hated that it wasn’t some crazy, not-to-be-found-in-nature hue. She’d dimmed her light, and she’d had to do it for him.
He would bring it all back, work hard to give her the life she deserved.
He would be worthy of all the love and trust she’d shown him in the past. His stupid heart actually clenched at the sight of her. She’d lost weight, likely because she was so worried.
She stopped, and her whole body stiffened.
He stepped out of the shadows. “Hello, MaeBe.”
She stared at him for a moment. “Kyle. Death seems to have been good to you. Why are you here?”
She was mad. He understood that. “You know why I’m here. I shouldn’t have left you the way I did. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Sorry about what? Sorry you promised me the world and then didn’t bother to tell me you weren’t dead? I understand that. You worked hard to get away from me. I’ve never had a man fake his own death before. It was a lot. All you had to say was ‘Hey MaeBe, I think we’re more like friends than boyfriend/girlfriend.’ You’re forgiven. You can leave now, and don’t break into my apartment again.”
Now he was confused. “I didn’t fake my death to break up with you.” He moved into her space. He needed to get his arms around her, to show her they were both okay. He put his hands on her shoulders. “I did it to protect you.”
Her head tilted toward him and then she moved, bringing her knee up.
He should have listened to Drake and protected his balls.
Pain exploded in his body, and he dropped to his knees.
“You can leave, Kyle.” She stood over him, hands on her hips, and he could see the newly honed muscles in her arms. She’d been working out hard. “As you can see I can protect myself now.”
That was the moment he realized she’d pulled a gun on him.
He closed his eyes and wondered how the hell they’d gotten here.
Part One
How they got here…
Chapter One
Dallas, TX
Eighteen months before
Kyle Hawthorne stood outside the doors to McKay-Taggart Security Services and thought seriously about running.
He wouldn’t run, exactly. He would walk away with the restraint and control he’d learned over the last several years, but the truth was no matter how slow he went he would be running.
But then hadn’t he been running for a long time now?
Those doors were so familiar. The floor-to-ceiling glass with its elegantly etched words hadn’t changed since his Aunt Charlotte had redone the office when he’d been in college. He’d worked here the summer she’d overseen the renovation. The summer of chaos, as he and his brother had called it. They’d both been in college, and working for their uncle and aunt had been an excellent way to make some money and avoid working for their stepdad. Not that they didn’t love Sean Taggart, but the kitchen had been rough work in the beginning. It had been way more fun to watch Uncle Ian go slowly insane as his utilitarian office was transformed into something designer and chic.
Damn, but the world had been different then.
No. The world hadn’t been different. It had been him.
He heard the ding of the elevator and prayed it wasn’t anyone he knew. He still had time. He could turn and get on that elevator and walk out into the world and never be seen again.
He could call Drake and tell him to fuck himself and the whole Agency. He could reject this whole forced sabbatical and go mercenary. There were lots of groups who would love to put his ass on the payroll and let him take out all his anger in the most violent of ways.
His stomach rolled at the thought.
He could still see the blood on his hands. Julia’s blood. Still see the surprised look in her eyes as she’d realized he’d been the one to pull the trigger, and then an oddly excited light had come into her eyes.
Oh, you want to play, lover? I think I’ll like this game. You’re mine, Kyle Hawthorne. No little bullet is going to stop me.
It hadn’t been a bullet that truly stopped her. It had taken an explosion and a whole house coming down on her to end that wicked witch’s life.
Of course once he’d thought she was his future. He’d been a fucking moron, and many, many people had suffered.
“Do you think he’s going to kill you? I know the man seems scary but he’s not. The key with Big Tag is to give as good as you get. Like fight his sarcasm with sarcasm. When he asks how my broom ride in was, I smile and ask him if he rode in on the back of a brontosaurus from his age. I know that sounds harsh, but it made him laugh, and now we’re cool. I spent the first couple of weeks terrified by him, thinking he was this big bully, but he’s actually the sweetest guy.”
The words had been said with a slightly husky feminine tone, and when he turned, sure enough there was a woman. A young woman who looked like she’d walked off the pages of a goth comic book. She was petite, a good foot shorter than him, with two purple pig tails, and she liked black. She had on a black miniskirt with sparkly suspenders over a black button-up. Dark green leggings and combat boots completed the look.
She was absolutely nothing like the two types of women he’d been surrounded by the last decade of his life. Military women who kept things neat and clean and practical, or the sophisticated crowd he’d run in when he’d been a spy. Women who were polished and thought out every single word they said and action made.