Lucy couldn’t focus on the conversation. All she could think about was why Sean had lied to her and Jack about his plans tonight.
Chapter Two
Pride Tactical owned a state-of-the-art van that rivaled most law enforcement tactical vans. Ellen used it for demonstrations because she could also use it as a command center, of sorts. She had permission to park outside the convention center for the duration of the law enforcement conference. It looked official, though there was nothing that screamed police on the outside. It was black and sleek with the Pride logo discreetly painted on the doors.
She finished checking the drone—twice—and did a trial run without the camera to make sure everything worked before Marc knocked on the rear door.
She opened up the back. “When I said nine, I meant nine.”
“I texted you that I would be late.”
“A few minutes, you said. It’s well after.”
She knew she sounded nasty; what she’d told Jack earlier was mostly true. She and Marc did get along better now than they had before the divorce, but the things that had irritated her when they were married irritated her as business partners, too. Marc could not be on time to save his life. She was punctual even before she enlisted in the army. She had to be, taking care of her two little brothers because her parents were too lazy or wasted to do it themselves. She was running the house by the time she was thirteen.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“Don’t.” She hated being called babe even when they were together. He knew it.
Except . . . this was Marc. For him, it was an endearment.
He ran a finger down her arm. Sometimes, she missed him. Really missed him. They’d been through so much together and it wasn’t all bad.
“I was meeting with Steven at the bar,” Marc said.
“What?” She jerked her hand back. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Hear me out.”
“No! I told you we’re not selling.”
“Just listen.”
“Pride is my company. I love this company. We’re doing great.”
“That’s the best time to sell—and this new drone technology you’ve developed is going to double our worth.”
“I’m. Not. Selling.”
She couldn’t believe what Marc was saying. Marc had wanted to sell the company when they divorced, but she’d talked him out of it. She couldn’t afford to buy him out at the time. The company had grown since, and he was right—the drone tech was going to catapult them to the top. They had five full-time staff members that handled contracts, programming, working with vendors on production, shipping—and everyone was overworked. With this tech they could double their staff and give everyone raises. All they would need were a few contracts and they’d be set for years.
“You work more than eighty hours a week. It’s why we divorced.”
“No, we divorced because you fucked our accountant. Literally. Then I fucked Steven. Then you fucked—”
“Stop.”
“And then you meet with the guy who’s trying to steal our company?”
“Hey, you slept with him!”
“Screw you.”
Marc grabbed her arm, and she karate-chopped his wrist and walked to the other end of the van and sat in her chair. She needed to breathe. This was her baby. Her company. She wasn’t selling. She liked working eighty hours a week. What else was she supposed to do?
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I miss you, Ellie.”
“You miss a fantasy.”
“It was real. We had a great marriage for years. But then all you cared about was this company. And I went along with it. I thought it would be like this for a while, we’d build it, then hire others to run it. But you have to do everything yourself. You’re a fucking control freak. I knew it marrying you, it’s one of the reasons I loved you, but it’s one of the reasons I ended up hating you. Because you can’t control everything.”
That was true. So damn if she was going to give up the one thing she could control.
“I want what we once had,” he said.
“That’s long gone, Marc.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Steven is making a huge offer. A preempt. You like him. You trust him. Hell, the fact that the three of us are still friends even though you slept with him shows we get along.”
She rolled her eyes. Yeah, she and Marc had a really unconventional divorce. It almost made her smile. Instead she said, “He’s our competitor.”
“He has a plan to keep the Pride line in his company as high-end tactical equipment. Our logo, our designs, our vision—his company. And if you want to work for him—”
She spun the chair around. All humor she might have felt disappeared. “Work for Steven?”
“He has ten times the staff and resources. And we—I don’t know. I’m not saying we can get back together, but dammit, I want to try.”
She couldn’t be hearing him right. “What?”
“I love you, Ellie.”
“You’re living with another woman.”
“Monica moved out two months ago because she knew that I still loved you.”
Why hadn’t he told her? Two months? And nothing?
“So you negotiate to sell our company behind my back? You love me so much that you’d hurt me like this?”
She was angry. And bitter. And sad. But mostly confused.
“I wanted to hear what Steven had to say. We’re equal partners, Ellie. He offered to buy out my half. I said no. I wouldn’t do that to you. I want us to sell.”
“Why—how—do you think we can make marriage work? We failed before.”
“Not marriage, unless that’s what you want. I want you back. But we’ll take it slow. Because the one thing you haven’t said, every time we argue, is that you don’t love me anymore.”
“I . . . no. I mean . . . shit! Shit, shit, shit.”
She paced, but the van was small. Two steps toward Marc. Two steps back to her chair. She wanted to get out, because she couldn’t think, but Marc was blocking the exit. She’d have to touch him to get by him . . . and touching him might be the worst thing right now because she still found her ex attractive. Super hot, sometimes, because he knew her, knew what she loved, knew how to set her off in bed.
But she didn’t want this conversation, now or ever. Things were good, right? Yes, she worked her ass off, but she liked it. And Marc knew she liked working. That she liked developing new products. He handled the finances and contracts and detail work and staff issues because she wasn’t good at that. She could see a need and fill it; he made sure they got paid.
They’d hurt each other. When she found out he’d had an affair with their accountant, she’d slept with Steven Decker out of anger. And lust. Steven knew it, she knew it, and she regretted it because they had been friends, and sex put a big wedge in their friendship, even though they’d gotten back to where they’d been before. She knew immediately that what she felt with Steven wasn’t what she’d felt with Marc, so she called it off pretty quick.
But could they even put all that behind them and work together? Maybe. Probably. It was sex, not love, and they both knew it. And Marc was right. They were all relatively friendly.