Chapter 11

The following morning, Scarlett rose early and went for a run to clear her head. Ignoring her physical needs created a restlessness that only responded to punishing workouts.

Given the fact that she was ripped from head to toe probably gave one pretty good insight as to how frustrating her sex life had become.

It took an extreme force of will to shove away her attraction to Xander and keep her head focused on the straight and narrow. Physical attraction, sexual lust—all that could be controlled with the right tools, but there was something about Xander that messed with her internal process.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to crush an inappropriate attraction but with Xander, it was the first time she’d had to exert so much energy to prevent herself from giving into her baser desires.

Time to focus on the facts, not on how she wanted to devour that difficult man from his stubborn head to his calloused toes.

As she ran, Scarlett processed the information they’d gleaned so far.

On the surface, the two women that McQuarry had been associated with had turned out to be dead ends. Clara McQuarry was the stereotypical political housewife who’d long ago sold her own personal happiness in favor of wealth and prestige, while the little gold digger had only been in the relationship for whatever she could get while the getting was good.

While no one was innocent in this scenario, it galled her that it was men always thinking with their dicks that caused the most turmoil in the world.

But they still hadn’t figured out who the high-ranking official was that McQuarry had been banging on the super sly. Damn family values platforms were such a crock of shit. The ones who shouted the loudest about traditional values were usually the ones screwing the underage babysitter, visiting hookers or sucking a dick in a back alley.

Oh, sure, they cried great big crocodile tears when they were inevitably caught but no one bought that act anymore. It looked good on camera, though. Repent, ye sinner!

Scarlett swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and wiped at the sting in her eyes.

Why did her father’s voice suddenly jump from her memory?

Ahh, because he’d been a sanctimonious prick just like McQuarry. Spouting off scripture, condemning the actions of others for their ungodliness and yet behind closed doors, he’d been the monster of her nightmares.

Scarlett pushed herself harder, sweat pouring down her back in spite of the chill in the morning air.

It’d taken a long time to push the memories away but there was something about this case that’d pulled everything right back to center.

Maybe it was the salacious hypocrisy that had gotten to her the most.

Or maybe it was the fear that no matter how far she ran from the memories of what that man had done to her, she’d never escape the urge to flinch whenever a man tried to get close.

Poor Connie had gotten the worst of her. She had no idea why he still cared, but she was grateful that he was a better man than she’d been a girlfriend.

In spite of Xander’s suspicion, she trusted Connie with her life.

The bigger question, the one she was still wrestling with, was did she trust Xander?

He was lying to her about something. She could feel it.

Could it be the pills? But why would he lie about an injury? The prescription was legit and he was nearly out of his pills so that issue was actually a non-issue, but Xander had definitely been twitchy when explaining.

Was he guilty of killing McQuarry? Did Xander have a private beef with McQuarry that he’d decided to settle that day in Tulsa?

Scarlett skidded to a stop, bending to dry heave for a minute. Exhausted and breathing hard, she straightened and wiped at her face with her sleeve. She could speculate all she wanted but until she came at Xander for the straight answer, she’d drive herself crazy with the millions of scenarios that could potentially be accurate.

They didn’t have time for bullshit.

And she couldn’t risk the mental breakdown.

So it came down to this—pin Xander down and demand the truth, or walk and let him deal with this mess on his own.

Scarlett had always operated more efficiently with a plan, even if the plan scared her.

She needed answers and she was going to get them, one way or another.

Spinning on her heel, she started the long trek back to the motel where hopefully Xander had drinkable coffee ready. Otherwise, she’d have to come at this situation in full-on bitch mode.

For his sake, Scarlett prayed Xander would do the smart thing.


Scarlett returned from her run, sweaty and looking like breakfast, but he could see from her expression that whatever she’d been hoping to exorcise was still riding shotgun in her mind.

Quietly, he slid the coffee he’d purchased toward her along with her preferred protein bar. She graced him with a brief smile and quickly stripped as she bit into the bar and washed it down with the coffee.

She used her shirt to wipe away the sweat and then said, “We need to talk” as she pulled a clean shirt over her head.

He’d known this conversation was coming but he still dreaded it. “Yeah? About?” he asked, pretending ignorance. “Ready to cash in that rain check?”

Scarlett ignored his play and said point-blank, “I know you’re lying to me about something. Come clean so we can move forward. We don’t have time for games.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?” he countered, not quite ready to show his hand. “Maybe you’re just being paranoid.”

Wrong move. “Don’t try to get in my head, Scott. My instincts have kept me and my team—which includes you, asshole—alive, so don’t try to make me question what my gut is telling me. Fess up or I’m walking.”

Damn, so much for dancing around the truth. Hell, Scarlett deserved the truth. But could he trust her with it? Scarlett was a hard-core rule-follower and if she knew...how could he trust that she wouldn’t just bail anyway?

“You’re weighing the pros and cons of spilling the beans,” she guessed accurately—sometimes the woman was scary—and Xander could only shake his head at the rock and the hard place he was wedged against. “Out with it, Scott. I’m done with the games.”

“I’m not playing games,” he assured her. “I respect you too much to play games.”

“So tell me the truth.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“Bullshit.”

Sweat threatened to break along his hairline. He covered it by rubbing his hand through his hair, stalling. “This is a waste of time. I can’t have you chasing after me with some paranoid crap every time you get a hunch. If I seem a little twitchy, it’s because, oh, maybe, my whole life has been turned upside down and I’m trying to figure out how to save my ass before it’s too late. That might account for the fact that I seem distracted, or disingenuous, or whatever else you have cooked up in your head. I’ve said it plenty of times and it still holds true—you don’t have to stay. There’s the door.”

He was playing a damn risky game and he hated being dishonest with Scarlett but he didn’t have a choice. If Scarlett knew that he had a pill addiction that had caused him to black out the day of the bombing, she wouldn’t trust anything he had to say from that moment forward.

He’d already made a solemn vow to kick the habit as soon as he figured out who was trying to frame him for McQuarry’s death but until then, he had to shove that problem to the back of the line.

Scarlett would just have to deal with his answer or leave.

The tension between them thickened. Xander didn’t know if Scarlett would stay but he hoped to God she did. He needed her—and not just because she was a hell of an asset to have on his side—she helped keep the demons at bay.

Guilt was an insidious force to reckon with and some days he felt the grip on his neck so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The people who’d died... He might as well have planted that bomb because he’d screwed up. Taken for granted what had seemed like an easy detail and had overdosed himself by being careless.

If he could relive that day and make different choices, he would. But that wasn’t an option so he was left with the actionable decisions available.

And that meant putting his nose back to the grindstone and finding the person who was truly responsible.

“So that’s it? Stay or go?” Scarlett shot back, her gaze hot.

“Making it pretty simple for you.”

“Yeah, right. Simple,” she growled and if looks could kill, Xander would have been spurting from his jugular. After a long moment, she exhaled with frustration but she wasn’t gathering her things to leave, so that was a good sign. “If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll not only kick your ass but things between me and you will never be the same. You get me?”

Yeah, he got her. The message was loud and clear. Even if he found who had framed him, he was basically committing to the realization that his relationship with Scarlett would be irrevocably screwed.

But what choice did he have?

He shrugged with forced nonchalance. “Well, until then, let’s just focus on the case,” he suggested, rising to toss his cup. His hands were shaking. It was time for another pain pill but with Scarlett there watching him, he couldn’t exactly pop his meds without raising more suspicion.

However, luck was on his side because Scarlett announced she was going to shower and disappeared into the bathroom.

Xander waited a beat until he heard the water going and then he quickly swallowed two pills from his ever-shrinking stash. He’d have to do something really risky—find a dealer to purchase more.

Back home, he had his regular guy and they had an arrangement. He left the money in an envelope with a certain convenience store clerk and when he returned, the clerk had a package for him. It was all very cut-and-dried but expensive as all get-out. When you’re stuck purchasing meds on a per-pill basis...it got real pricey.

But he couldn’t get a refill on the meds through the regular channels. The doc had already suspected a problem and had cut him off when he’d blown through his usual prescription within the first two weeks of getting it refilled.

So, yeah, getting a prescription the legal way...not an option.

At first, he’d thought it was a positive thing—if he couldn’t get the meds, he couldn’t keep taking them—but then he’d found someone who sold them on the black market and, well, there went his decision to quit cold turkey.

He was the first to admit he’d played fast and loose with his meds. He supposed he still suffered the belief that he was invincible but that blackout had been a wake-up call in more ways than one.

If he thought Scarlett would understand, he’d gladly spill that truth but he knew in his gut that Scarlett would lose all respect for him and he couldn’t risk that right now.

Maybe not ever.

If he could kick this habit on his own, she never needed to know.